


You and I

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: ...yet, Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, Eventual relationship, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff, Grief, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of kissing, Love Triangle, Mc has a back story, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, So much angst, Someone gets punched, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Teasing, Trauma, Trust and Commitment Issues, mc is not in a relationship but..., mc is tired of everyones shit, mentions of abuse, mentions of mental illnesses, mentions of self harm, mentions of trauma, rika is you know where, there will be a fight, unrequited feelings, v is very much alive, yoosung zen and mc dont know the whole truth...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 43,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I asked if you’d help me… with Saeran.”
  Seven asks you to help Saeran down his painstakingly long path to recovery. After everything he’s put you through, will you agree? Just when you thought you were done with the RFA, events occur which push you further down the rabbit hole that is the members and everything they are and will be. You never intended to, but your presence leaves an impact on them. And they, in turn, leave their everlasting impact on you.  The main character is referred to as ‘You’ and ‘MC’ throughout the story.Warning: May contain spoilers from various routes.





	1. Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! Feedback/comments are always very much appreciated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes Seven saying something ridiculous, Jumin not understanding people and MC being ready to fight

“What?” you can’t believe your ears; did he really just say that?

It’s been a week since the party, almost enough time to get back to the routine you’d had before being thrown into the life of the RFA and the position of party coordinator, one you were forced into by blackmail. You had slowly opened up, found aspects of each member you grew to like, until the person who’d lured you to the apartment had decided to come for you. The encounter had left you shaken, more withdrawn, erased the progress you had made with everyone, causing you to become distrustful, almost resentful. The addition of Saeran to the RFA had gotten to you, resulted in you spending less time around most of the members excluding Zen, Jaehee and Yoosung. You’d grown distrustful of Jimin and Seven, with any mention of V causing you to shut down immediately. He’d stopped calling, stopped enquiring about your wellbeing, clearly noticing your discomfort.  
Now here you were all gathered in an emergency meeting, a meeting that you were unaware would change everything.

“I asked you if you’d help me… with Saeran. Jumin’s already recommended one of the best psychiatrists in the country but I really think you’d be able to help. Will you?”  
You push yourself away from the table with a huff of breath, unable to speak. Glancing around, you see the other members in various states of shock, Zen’s knuckles white as he grips his fingers into tight fists, Yoosung’s mouth hanging open in disbelief, Jaehee with her face set in her trademark composed state, only her darting pupils giving away her unease at the unexpected offer.  
You find yourself pacing in small tight circles, mind reeling. Jumin watches you from the head of the table, his fingers interlaced and placed in front of him. You catch his eye but turn away quickly, a flash of anger running through you at the thought of him knowing, knowing of Seven’s absurd idea but going along with it. Instead, your gaze falls on the figure in the corner of the room by the large windows, your steps halting. He looks back at you with those piercing eyes, head tilted, observing silently. A shiver runs through you and you look away, suddenly feeling cold. Wrapping your arms around you protectively, you turn back to Seven.

“No.” Your voice is strong and steady, reverberating around the room.  
“But MC-“  
“She said no.” It’s Zen, his jaw locked tightly as he presses his teeth together, leaning across the table to glare at Seven through his blazing amber eyes.  
“If you would just consider the offer,” begins Jumin from across the room, his calm voice setting your nerves on edge. “You don’t have to answer right away MC, take your time.”  
“I have considered the offer, and my answer is no.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and you snap, whirling around to point a finger at him. “Don’t you dare, Jumin,” you hiss, the venom in your voice surprising him, his eyes widening. “You expect me to say yes to helping the psycho who tried to kidnap me? To kill me?” 

You don’t realise Zen has stood up until he’s beside you, one of his large hands placed securely on your shoulder providing support, but also warning you, urging you to calm down. You relax slightly under his touch, finding his presence as comforting as always. At your response, he moves closer, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“MC…” Seven pleads with his eyes, his voice faint as he tries to reason with you.  
A wave of guilt rolls over you at the pain etched across his face and you turn away, seeking Zen instinctively. He almost always seems to know what you want, what you need from him and he’s already there, turning slightly so that your forehead is pressed against his firm upper arm.  
“I can’t,” you whisper against him, a shaky breath escaping your lips, “I can’t do it Zen.”  
“It’s ok,” he whispers back, head tilted to look down at you “it’s ok. I understand.”

With that he looks up and clears his throat, concluding the meeting with one swift sentence. “I’ll be taking MC home now.”  
“That’s not nec-,” you squeeze your eyes shut at Jumin’s voice and feel Zen stiffen.  
“This has nothing to do with you, jerk,” he spits, “I’m taking her home and that’s final.”

“That’s a shame.” Your blood turns ice cold at the voice, your breath hitching in your throat.  
“I thought you’d relish the challenge,” he continues, “you see… you and I, we’re not that much different.”  
You don’t realise what you’re doing until you feel Zen’s arm around your waist pulling you back. You’re shouting, straining against him to launch yourself at the man currently looking at you with amusement, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  
“MC, please calm down! He’s getting to you, don’t let him!” You ignore Zen’s words, instead thrashing in his grip, your whole body itching to tear the man on the other side of the room apart. Zen grunts from the exertion of holding you back, his body pressed tightly against yours. The shock of seeing you so angry overriding his initial feeling of pride at seeing you finally lash out at the absurdness of the situation. 

“Take her home Zen. Now.” Jaehee’s standing, eyes wide and face pale, your violent reaction breaking her composure.


	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes MC teasing Zen, her regretting it and him getting kicked out of her house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going on between Zen and MC???

You sit on the edge of the sofa staring off into space. It’s been an hour since Zen dragged you home and you’ve only just stopped shaking, the adrenaline in your system slowly dissipating. The cup of tea he placed in front of you has long since cooled, the room silent as he sits opposite you, taking quick glances at your face but making no effort to speak.  
“Thank you,” your voice comes out in a rasp and you clear your throat, lick your chapped lips before continuing, “for taking me out of there. Thanks.”  
“Are you sure you’re ok?” The concern in his voice is evident in his eyes, brows furrowed.  
“Of course I’m not fucking ok, I just tried to fight him!” you say in a rush, voice raised. Zen takes a sharp intake of breath before chuckling, causing your lips to form into a half smile.  
“Always so honest,” he shakes his head in amusement, constantly taken by surprise no matter how many times you swear in front of him. “But seriously MC,” his voice is grave, worry weighing heavily on each syllable, “about Seven’s offer… are you, will you help him?”

Your nails are in your mouth before you know it, teeth making quick work worrying at them, an instinctive habit and response to stress. Incisors are about to bite down again before the hand is wrenched out of your mouth, Zen’s face inches away from yours, the guilty hand enveloped in his.  
“You need to cut that habit,” he warns, eyes flickering down to your lips before shooting back up again, a glimmer of something you can’t read flashing across his face before he’s back, crimson eyes glued to yours.  
“Is that right?” you tease, a smirk dancing over your lips, “Mr Smokes and Drinks Like His Life Depends on It?”  
“Hey!” he shuffles closer, a faint flush dusting his cheeks as he stumbles over his words, “this isn’t about me! Anyways, I haven’t had a cig in 3 days, that’s a record! I deserve an award! Do you know how hard it’s been?”  
Your brows shoot up before you cock your head to the side, “Really, Zen? I don’t know…” The teasing tone in your voice gets to him, the blush on his face spreading as he shouts indignantly. “I’m serious MC! I can’t believe you’re teasing me like th-!”  
You move forward suddenly, taking him by surprise, his voice cutting off. Your face is impossibly close to his, nose brushing against his collar.  
“Wha-, what are you doing?” His voice is shaking, the grip he has on your hand loosening slightly.  
“I’m seeing if you’re telling the truth,” you breathe against his neck, the warm breath escaping your mouth causing goose bumps to form on the exposed skin. You laugh lightly at his reaction and he inhales sharply, his grip on your hand all but gone, letting you wriggle the fingers out from under his. You lean back to look at him and jolt, stomach dropping at the way he’s looking at you, eyes glazed over, pink lips parted slightly as he pants, the flush reaching down past his neck.  
“Zen?” You suddenly feel unbearably hot, impossibly close to him, too close.  
“Now do you believe me?” His voice is low, lower than usual, huskier, the sound shooting straight though you, running down your spine before warming you from the inside out, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.  
You draw your hand back to your side before moving away, putting some distance between the two of you.

“You’re clear, no hint of smoke. I believe you.” The spell has been broken, whatever you saw and felt gone and you blink, wondering if you’d imagined it all. “I er, I think you should go.”  
“I don’t mind stay-“  
You cut him off by standing abruptly, smoothing your skirt down before heading towards the door and yanking it open before looking back at him. He’s still sitting there, head turned towards you, the rest of his body tilted slightly to the side, one hand pressed into the sofa cushion, the exact same position he’d been in when you had leaned into him. The ball of warm heat in your core returns, causing you to rip your gaze away from him, pushing it down until it disappears, replaced by nothing.  
“I need to see Seven so you should probably get going. I don’t want to keep you waiting.” 

You feel rather than see him stir, your eyes locked on the driveway, his footsteps making their way towards the door. You don’t dare look at him, instead suddenly fascinated by his shoes.  
“Hey, MC.” His voice is soft, back to the way it usually is, a hint of sadness tinging the edges. You can’t help it despite yourself, finding your gaze moving up his body until it settles on his face.  
You’ve hurt him, it’s evident in his eyes, in the way his lips are down turned, eyebrows raised slightly, urging you to explain yourself. You don’t, instead making way for him to pass.  
“Bye, Zen.”  
He leaves without another word and you’re moving, hands shaking slightly as you almost slam the door, sliding the security lock into place. Turning, you rest your back against the wood, head tilted back, regaining the breath you didn’t realise you’d lost. It takes a few minutes for you to hear the sound of Zen’s motorbike coming to life, the engine revving as he drives away.

You stand there, unaware of the fact that you were again inches away from Zen, his forehead pressed to the other side of the door before he decides to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, what's going on between Zen and MC???


	3. Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes MC freaking out, Zen getting jealous and Seven being Seven

_‘I can do this, I can do this. I just need to go in. I can do this.’_ You’re talking to yourself, fingers drumming against the steering wheel of the car. You’re parked in front of Seven’s apartment. In fact, you’ve been sitting here for a while, trying to gather enough courage to move. You turn to glance out the window at the front door before placing your head against the wheel, a tortured groan spilling from your lips. _‘Oh god, I can’t do this. I can’t do this. What the fuck am I doing here? I can’t do this!’_ Just then, your phone chimes and you fumble to reach for it where its laying on the passenger seat. It’s a text from Zen and you find yourself smiling as you read it.

_Zen: Babe, are you ok? No matter what you decide, I’ll support you. Good luck!_

Bolstered by his words, you take a deep breath before unbuckling your seat belt, grabbing your bag and stepping out the car. You lock it before walking quickly towards your destination, wanting to get it over with. You hand has barely fumbled around for the Arabic dictionary in your bag before the door is flung open, a dishevelled looking Seven standing in the entrance, eyes wide at the sight of you at his door, hands clasped tightly in front of you to stop them from trembling. 

“MC…” he shuffles to the side to make way, “come in.” You step in gingerly, taking in his distressed state.  
He looks terrible, face pale and drawn, eyes sunken. A pang of guilt hits you, has it only been a couple of hours since you rejected his offer? Tried to attack his brother and then walked out on him?  
“One month,” you say, getting straight to the point.  
“I don’t, I don’t understand,” he squints at you through his glasses.  
“I’ll-, I’ll help him for a month. That’s all I can promise.”  
“MC!” You stagger backwards as he runs into you, practically tackling you into a hug. You squirm in his grip, unsure of what to do. “Thank you! You don’t know how happy this makes me. I promise if he does anything just tell me and I’ll talk to him. And I’ll pay you! Of course I’ll pay you, it’s the least I can do!”  
“Seven-“ you mumble, face squished into the material of his hoodie, “Please just, let me go.” He finally releases you, the wide smile on his face lighting up his features. You can’t help but laugh softly at his expression, heart immediately lighter. 

He takes a step back before rubbing the nape of his neck. “Er… do you want to see him now? Is it too soon?” You swallow thickly before nodding slowly, unable to speak. Seven gestures to a room on the left.  
“He’s in his room. Knock before you go in. Do you want me to go in there with you?” He’s worried, words tumbling from his mouth as he looks at you, unsure of what to do. A wave of relief washes over him as you shake your head, “I’ll be fine, Seven.”  
“Ok. I’m right here if you need me.” Thanking him, you make your way towards the room, heart beating so hard and fast in your chest you feel like it’ll explode.  
You rap your knuckles against the door twice before slowly turning the doorknob. The room is dark, curtains closed against the light of the quickly setting sun. You struggle to make out figures in the gloom before your eyes adjust. He’s sitting in the middle of his bed, knees drawn up to his chest as he reads a book. You wonder how he can read in such an uncomfortable position before he notices you, setting the book down lightly and unfurling himself. He stands up slowly, those piercing eyes always seeming to see right through you. You supress a shudder before clearing your throat.  
“I agreed to help you.”  
“I don’t need your help,” his voice is cold, emotionless, arms folded across his chest defensively.  
“Yeah well, tough shit,” you reply without blinking, not giving up so easily. It had taken nearly everything out of you to make this decision, no way were you giving up now. He chuckles darkly before unfolding his arms and tucking them into the pockets of his trousers.  
“Mmm, Saeyoung was right. You really don’t give up without a fight. I should know.” You grit your teeth, knowing Zen isn’t here to hold you back. Instead, you move slowly into the room, the door closing with a click behind you. Your stomach churns at the sound but it’s ok, you’re safe, Seven is only a few feet away.  
“How are you feeling?” You ask, resorting to the universal question in your profession. You choose to omit his name, not trusting yourself to say it without your body reacting violently towards it.  
“I’m fine,” he answers, voice still bare of any emotion. You nod curtly before turning back towards the door.  
“Is that it? You ask me how I am and then leave?”  
“Yes,” you reply calmly, “that concludes today’s session.”  
You hear a commotion as you move to open the door, all thoughts of the man behind you forgotten.

Zen. His eyes bore into yours as soon as you exit the room. He must’ve been arguing with Seven, the anger evident in his face. He stands there for a while, simply glaring at you. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with the first few buttons undone. It’s tucked into a dark pair of trousers, an equally dark belt looped around it, a pair of smart black shoes on his feet. He looks effortlessly good.  
“MC,” the fury in his voice is barely restrained, “were you in there with him, alone?”  
“It was only for a min-“ he swears under his breath before turning on his heels and walking out of the open door.  
“Zen, wait!” you call after him but he’s gone, the loud revving of his engine audible as it turns the corner of the neighbourhood. 

Throwing a rushed apology at Seven over your shoulder, you run out the door towards your car, hoping you catch Zen at his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is gonna be full of some kinda tension so be warned!


	4. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes a lot of heated kissing. Be warned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kissing in this chapter gives you guys a look into the dynamics of a MC x Zen relationship

He’s pacing the floor of his kitchen, a half finished beer clutched in his hand. Turning to face you as you walk in, you see the hurt etched on his face, the betrayal clear in his eyes. Walking around the small dining table, you drop your bag before making your way towards him. 

“You said you’d support me,” you mutter softly, unsure of how he'll react.  
“I know,” his voice is steady, no hint of anger, no hate. “I, I thought I’d be ok with it but I’m not. I’d be lying to you if I said I was.”  
“Zen…” you reach out for him but he steps back, eyes glistening.  
“I’m sorry MC, but you being alone with him, him being with you…” he shakes his head, “I hate it.”  
“I hate it too,” you whisper, “but I promised Seven.”  
“What about me, MC? Huh?” His voice is raised, the anger showing but you stand your ground, your trust in him quashing any fear. “Am I supposed to be alright seeing you with him? After everything he’s done to you?”  
“Zen-“  
“Has he tried anything?”  
“Tried anything?” your brows furrow in confusion, “Zen, I don’t-“  
“If he touches you…” his hands are clenched into fists, jaw tight as he tries to contain his anger, “I swear, I’ll kill him.”  
“Zen, please…” you try to reach for him again but he’s already gone, his footsteps leading out of the kitchen and up to the roof. 

You sigh, leaning against the counter for support. The first twinges of a headache tug at your temple and you wince before brushing it off, instead making your way up to the roof after Zen.

You find him leaning against the railing, an unlit cigarette in his hands.  
“I thought you’d stopped smoking,” you say softly, standing beside him.  
“I guess I’ve started again,” he replies coldly, refusing to look at you.  
“Don’t light it.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them and you mentally scold yourself, now isn’t the time to lecture him about the dangers of smoking. He finally turns towards you, lighter already open, the flame fluttering lazily in the breeze.  
“Don’t light it, Zen,” you repeat, anger boiling up within you at the sight of him blatantly ignoring you, the image of him staring you down.  
“Or what, MC? Hmm?” With that, he brings the flame to the butt of his smoke, it flames bright orange as it greedily devours the fire. He watches you as he brings it to his lips, his cold gaze taunting you, daring you to act. 

Something inside you snaps.

You’re in front of him in a second, one hand smacking at the lit cigarette between his fingers, causing it to tumble over the railing, the ring of orange light immediately being swallowed up in the darkness. Your other hand fists into his shirt, yanking him down.  
He opens his mouth to protest, the first few syllables of anger leaving his mouth before you absorb the rest in a kiss, your lips moving against his cold ones, all your emotions spilling out. It takes him a second to process, eyes wide before they flutter shut and he groans into your mouth, a hand at the small of your back as he draws you towards him, brings your body flush against his, the other at the base of your neck, angling your head as he deepens the kiss. You let him take control, let him hold you up as the familiar ball of warmth builds inside you. You let it, way past the point of no return.  
“Zen,” you sigh against his lips and his breath hitches, his mouth opening just enough for you to slide your tongue against his. The heat of him is driving you crazy, your hands trailing up his back as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth, grips your hips tightly and slams you backwards into the wall, causing you to break away, a moan of pleasure slipping past your lips until he’s on you again, swallowing every sound you make, claiming them for himself. You run the tip of your tongue teasingly over the roof of his mouth and he shudders, his fingers moulding themselves into your skin, the heat coming off him searing into you through your clothes. 

He finally breaks away, breathing heavily as he gazes at you through lust lidded eyes. You tilt your head upwards and his mouth brushes against your lower lip. He runs the tip of his tongue over it lazily, chuckling deeply as you whine, the sound changing into a guttural moan as he sucks it into his mouth. Your reaction draws an animalistic groan from him and he’s pushing you harder against the wall, his leg appearing between yours and you’re gasping, hands pressed tightly against his chest. You reluctantly pull away for air, chest heaving, the both of you breathless as you pant against each other.  
“MC,” his deep, husky voice draws a small keen from you and he presses even closer, “don’t tempt me, I- ahh,” a shuddering groan rakes through him as your hands move slowly down his chest until they reach his hips, deftly hooking your thumbs into his belt loop.  
“Or what?” you goad, glancing up at him through your lashes. He looks beautifully wrecked, silver hair plastered to his damp forehead, lips plump and tender as he towers above you, mouth open as he takes ragged breaths.  
“Or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.” You dip your head and place it into the crook of his neck, the scent of him invading your nostrils, causing you to burrow deeper, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.  
“I don’t care,” you mutter, letting go of his belt loops and running your hands up his back, drawing him closer. In turn he lets go of your hips, choosing to encircle you in his arms, placing his chin on your shoulder.  
“I want to take my time with you,” he murmurs softly, “I want to be selfish, but only after you’re satisfied. Only then.”  
“Ever the gentleman,” you smile, placing a chaste kiss on the exposed skin above his collarbone. He tightens his hold before pulling away to face you, his breathing jagged with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “absolutely no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed all that kissing!


	5. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes a tiny glimpse of Seven, vulnerable Saeran and MC doubting herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of the beginning of Saeran opening up and also the first official session that MC has with him

It’s been three days since you’ve seen Zen, three days since that moment on the roof. The two of you have gone for weeks without speaking, both occupied with work. It was different this time, you felt restless, finding yourself thinking about him at the most inappropriate times. The feeling of his lips against yours, the words he’d spoken seared into your brain.  
He’d offered to take you home, walked you to your door before kissing you again, a finger slipping under your chin, tilting your face upwards and capturing your lips in his softly. He’d smiled before pulling away and wishing you a good night, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he walked backwards, unable to tear his eyes away from you.  
Now here you were in your office, papers scattered haphazardly across the desk, all thoughts of work abandoned. Sighing, you stand up before glancing at the clock fixed to the wall. Just enough time available for you to get to your scheduled session. 

**********

“How are you feeling?” You’re sitting opposite him in the open spaced living room, a small notebook balanced on your knee, pen uncapped and poised, ready to write down every word. He seems different, looks different… less confident of himself than before. He’s wearing a beige coloured jumper, the long sleeves pulled down and clutched within his fists. He’s looking down at his feet, leg bouncing. You glance up briefly at Seven. He’s working in his soundproof glass workstation, headphones over his ears and fingers flying across the keyboard. He notices you however, probably due to the many cameras fitted across the apartment. Turning around, he flashes you a quick reassuring smile before turning back to the task at hand.  
You decide to do the same, eyes cast downwards and you flinch, a jolt of electricity running through you as you catch him staring, the unusual bright blue of his eyes fixated on your face. He turns away quickly, gaze fixed back on his feet.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Pardon?” His voice is so faint you don’t quiet catch it. Did he just apologise? Placing the pen and notebook down, you lean forward.  
“Sorry… for what?”  
“For what I did to you.” You suck in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, the collar of your shirt too tight, the room too small.  
“I don’t… don’t remember most of it. After she-“ he stops, his entire body locking up, hands frozen. You feel a ball of pity rising in the pit of your stomach at the mention of the woman who’d ruined his life, turned the lives of the members’ upside down. You don't fully understand the impact of her actions, aren't fully aware of just how influential she’d been as an active part of the RFA. _She was the RFA,_ and her betrayal had almost threatened to destroy it. You had seen and felt everything from the inside looking in and a small part of you, a small selfish part was glad to not understand, to not have the full weight of insight on your shoulders.

He shakes his head roughly, bringing himself back from wherever he was. “I’m sorry MC, I never meant any of this. I didn’t mean to ruin your life.” His eyes are back on you but this time they’re different, brimming with unshed tears. His jaw painfully tight as he fights to control them. Another sharp breath escapes you. _He said your name._ Such a small, insignificant thing but such an important milestone at the same time. He’d managed to make you lose your breath in the span of five minutes, caused you to gape at him soundlessly, at a complete loss for words. Before you can blink or even respond he’s up, back to you as he heads towards his room.  
You hear him again, just before he closes the door and retreats to his safe space. 

“You don’t have to help me. You don’t owe me anything.”

He was right. He has ruined your life. You had always tried to convince the members of the RFA otherwise, tried to look on the bright side but he was right. Your life, if not ruined, was now completely different from what it had been a couple of months ago, completely different from what you had envisioned for yourself.  
_‘You don’t owe me anything.’_ He was right again. You didn’t. Then why were you helping him? Were you really helping? Seven had assured you that you were, divulging the fact that you were the only person he’d opened up to since he had decided to seek help. Yet you felt uneasy, unable to explain what the nagging feeling in your gut was. 

Would you really be able to get him to open up? And if so, will you be able to withstand hearing all that he’d been put through?


	6. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes Jumin being up to something, MC smelling his bullshit from a mile away and a daring rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC and Jumin aren't very close and even though she'd probably hate to admit it, they seem quite similar

The ringing of your phone wakes you from your slumber and you groan in protest, your hand already reaching towards where it is on the bedside counter. Sliding your thumb across the screen without looking at the caller I.D, you place it against your ear.  
“It’s me, Jumin.”  
“Jumin…” you mumble, voice heavy with sleep, “why are you calling? Did something happen?” You sit up, back against the pillows.  
“No, it’s nothing like that. I was wondering if you would join me for lunch. It would give us time to talk about Saeran.”  
“Now?”  
“I don’t understand, it’s nearly noon. Did I wake you?”  
“Yes, you did wake me,” you almost snarl, mentally bashing yourself for picking up his call.  
“Good. Then I’m sure twenty minutes of preparation time will suffice. Driver Kim will be there shortly to pick you up.” He hangs up abruptly, causing you to throw the phone across the bed and stand up, muttering threats aimed at him under your breath as you make your way towards the bathroom. 

**********

“MC, I’m glad you could make it.” He stands as you walk towards the table. Jumin looks as put together as always, three-piece suit immaculate, not a hair out of place. He moves to come around the table, ready to pull the chair out for you but you surge forward, resting your hands on the back.  
“No need,” you assure him and he nods curtly before returning. Taking your seat, you look around at the restaurant. It fits Jumin’s taste exactly, cream coloured silk cloth adorning the six or so round tables spaced out across the floor. A large glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling but its unlit, the curtains of the large windows open to let the afternoon sunlight stream in, bathing the room in warm, natural light. A spiral staircase leads up to the other two floors of dining space. The entire place screams simple elegance. Zen’s voice suddenly pops into your head, so vivid that you can almost feel his warm breath against your ear. Barely concealed disgust twists his words, curling his top lip as he practically spits out the words _‘trustfund jerk!’_ An unexpected burst of giggles escape your lips and you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as you look over at Jumin. His brows are furrowed as he examines you, probably wondering what on earth’s gotten into you.  
“Are you alright, MC?” he asks and you nod vigorously, not trusting yourself to speak in case you start laughing again. He clears his throat and you sit up straight, back to business.

“Saeyoung called me after the session yesterday. He told me that Saeran apologised. Is that right?” A small line has formed between his eyebrows as he observes you.  
“What?” you bristle, unaware of Seven’s actions, “that’s classified information. He isn’t supposed to tell you anything.”  
“Am I not allowed to know? I’m the one who recommended the psychiatrist and offered to pay for Saeran’s treatment. He’s important to Saeyoung and, if I understand anything, it’s the importance of family.”  
“You didn’t recommend _me,_ Jumin.” You make a mental note to pay Seven a visit, indignant at the fact that he went behind your back. “Anything that he tells me stays between him, me and Seven. You’re a businessman Jumin, I thought you’d understand that.”  
“Why do you do that?” He’s deflecting the question, brushing off your direct jab at his competence. His question side-tracks you and you blink, disarmed.  
“Do what?”  
“Not say Saeran’s name.” You simply glare at him before clearing your throat.  
“Is this all you called me here for? To interrogate me?” 

“Not at all.” He leans back in his seat, fiddles with his cufflink, all the while regarding you with that steel grey gaze of his. You’ve seen it many times, observed the way Jaehee’s cringed under that look, the way it’s made Yoosung and Seven flustered, caused Zen to get at least ten times angrier.  
You find Jumin endearing sometimes. If you peel back the layers of composure and confidence, separate his fears from his obsessive tendencies and get to the heart of who he truly is… you find yourself smiling and he pales slightly, rocks forward in his chair until his elbows are on the table. You push back the remark of telling him to take his elbows off the dinner table and wait for him to speak.  
“MC… I understand you want to help him. As do I. If only you-“  
“Listen Jumin,” you interrupt him, already preparing to leave, “I appreciate you inviting me to lunch under the guise of getting information out of me but it isn’t going to work. I’m an expert at psychoanalysing people, you of all people should know that.” You stand before tucking your seat in. “You’re effort was cute though.” With that you leave, heading towards the exit. 

As you step out into the cool afternoon, Jumin’s sleek black car rolls up next to the kerb. 

_Shit._

You forgot it was Jumin who’d brought you here and now you were going to have to ride home with him. You notice his presence and turn to find him standing beside you, a smug look on his face.  
Before you can react, a loud noise diverts your attention, head swivelling to find the source. A motorbike smoothly moves to park in front of Jumin’s car, effectively blocking its way out. The rider has on a dark leather jacket over similarly dark jeans, a helmet over their head. Another helmet is clutched in their hand, thrust forward towards you. It takes a second for it all to click before you're rushing towards them, taking the helmet out of their hand and placing it over your head. You’re thankful to be wearing trousers as you take a seat behind the rider, your chest pressed against their back, hands clasped around their midriff. You can practically _feel_ them grinning, their entire body vibrating with excitement. You can faintly hear Jumin shouting something but the rider conveniently revving their engine blocks him out. You laugh, their excitement contagious as they pull away, everything a blur.

“Zen!” You shout above the noise of the engine and the air, “how did you find me?”  
“Pleased to see me?” he chuckles, the sound thrumming through you, eliciting a smile.  
“Of course! My Prince rides up on his noble steed and rescues me from the evil Director!”  
“Anything for my Princess!” he replies enthusiastically and you laugh again, burrowing your face in the cool leather of his jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zen is so cute with his hatred for Jumin literally fuelling everything he does


	7. Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Includes even more kissing and Zen almost unleashing The Beast™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual tension between these two is no joke

“What a bastard!” You’re sitting on Zen’s sofa, a beer in hand and legs tucked underneath you as you tell him about the disastrous lunch with Jumin. He’s leaning against the TV opposite you, holding his own can of alcohol, face sour as he listens to your story, interrupting you occasionally to voice his disdain.  
He’d brought you to his apartment, listened intently as you ranted about Jumin and Seven, hands flying in front of your face as you had demonstrated what you’d do once you get your hands on the hacker. Zen had opened the tab on an ice-cold beer, pressed it into your hand before leading you into the living room where you had curled up on the sofa, pausing your tirade occasionally to take refreshing sips of your drink.  
“Worst of all, I didn’t even get to eat,” you finish with a pout, placing down the empty can before glancing up at him.  
Your breath catches in your throat. He’s regarding you with that same look he’d given you when he had dragged you home a few days ago, the same unreadable flash of emotion flickering across his features. 

You blink and he’s across the room in two strides, beer forgotten, balanced precariously on the edge of the TV stand. He closes the distance between you, cups your cheek tenderly in his cold hand before tilting you face upwards, capturing your lips softly against his. It’s quick, his lips pressed lightly against yours before he pulls away, taking away the chance for you to reciprocate in kind.  
“I’m sorry,” he mutters softly, forehead resting against yours, “I couldn’t help myself. You shouldn’t pout at me like that.”  
“Why?” you ask, genuine curiosity furrowing your brows and he’s on you again, lips pressed longer against yours, his hand dropping from your cheek to trail his fingers slowly down to your jaw and you shiver at the feeling, eyelids fluttering.  
“Because,” he continues, voice low as he pushes you further into the cushions, presses himself against you, “everything you do drives me crazy. These past few days…” he sighs heavily, removes his fingers from your jaw and you immediately notice the absence, long to have it back.  
“I don’t know how I got through them without calling you.” He’s so close, the look in his eyes hard to distinguish, a mixture of longing and desperation, almost like he’s trying to hold himself back from something.  
“You should’ve,” you whisper, moving forward to kiss him, the urge to touch him overriding everything else but he leans back, preventing you from reaching forward. You look into his eyes, hold his fixed stare as you try to convey your feelings. “I needed you.”  
He rips his gaze away at the words, squeezes his eyes shut. “MC…” His voice is rough, raw with conflicting emotions and you find yourself hating it when he pulls away, increases the distance between the two of you. He’s still leaning down but his chest isn’t pressed against you anymore, his arms braced either side of your head and it takes everything you have not to reach up and pull him back down.

“You should eat,” his voice is as tight as the tendons in his arms, “you must be hungry.”  
“Why didn’t you call?” you ask, sidestepping his suggestion. He sighs, makes to move away but you take him by surprise, strain your face upwards just enough for your lips to graze his jawline and he stiffens. Testing his reaction, you brush your lips lightly over the spot and he sighs again, the sound jagged as he tries to hold himself together, his arms shaking slightly.  
“I missed you,” you breath, ducking your head slightly to place a kiss over the skin and he groans lightly, softens, his arms loosening their grip.  
“Zen…” another kiss and he breaks, arms falling away completely, the weight of him finally pressing down onto you causing your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure. 

_Finally._

A smile dances over your lips at seeing him lose his composure so quickly but he turns his head, meets your mouth with his and he’s kissing you with so much force it takes your breath away, all thoughts of anything else gone as he slips his tongue past your parted lips, glides it against your own, a shudder of pleasure running down your spine at the feeling.  
His hands are at your chest, your waist and you arch your back, press yourself tight against him as his fingers dance over your hips before grabbing a hold of you, pulling you up, lips still connected, pushing you backwards out of the room.  
Your hands are at the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling as you undo them. His hands move away from your hips briefly to tug your cardigan off before they’re back, his fingers slipping underneath your top to graze at the bare skin of your abdomen. You inhale sharply at the feeling, teeth nipping accidentally at his tongue in your mouth and he growls deep in his chest, the sound shooting straight down to your core, a dull ache throbbing between your legs. 

Your back makes contact with the door of his room and he pushes you against it as he shrugs off his shirt, giving you a brief respite as he breaks away from your lips. You stand there, dazed, chest heaving as he ducks down to grab at the hem of your top, dragging it up and over your head. You’re about to bring your arms down, place your hands on his chest but he stops you, runs his large hands over your arms until he reaches your wrists. Pinning them above your head with both of his, he presses his bare chest against yours and you groan in frustration, roll your hips against his and you practically _hear_ his breath hitch, eyes widening at the sensation, mouth hanging open before he ducks down again, sucks at the skin of your stomach. You yelp in shock, legs weak, only the weight of him pressed against you and the cool door at your back keeping you upright. He trails hot, open mouth kisses up your chest as you squirm in his grasp, unable to do anything else. You’re gasping, head tilted back as he moves upwards, his name spilling from your lips, spurring him onward. His lips graze your nipple through the thin material of your bra and you gasp at how good it feels, push your chest against his mouth and he lets you go, loosens his fingers from around your wrists to fumble at the back of your bra, eager to remove it.  
Finally free, you grasp his face between your hands, pull him back up and into another kiss, this one leaving the both of you panting against each other’s open mouths.

“We,” he’s gasping for breath, his lips brushing against yours, “we should stop.” His eyes are dark with desire, his fingers at the clasp of your bra, not undoing it, simply there.  
“Are you sure?” you ask, placing a small kiss on his bottom lip and he shakes his head sharply.  
“No.” You laugh then, run your hands down his face before wrapping your arms loosely around his neck.  
“You’ve got me in a compromising position here, Zen,” you muse, tilting your head to the side, silently observing him. He blushes before pulling you into him, placing his head into the crook of your neck.  
“You should go,” he mumbles against your skin.  
“I should.”  
Neither of you make an attempt to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zen wants to be a gentleman and take his time but he also can't control himself and MC is just ???


	8. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes a guilty Seven, a hesitant Saeran and a nervous MC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd use this chapter to give you guys more of an insight into MC, a bit of her personality and her relationship with the other members of the RFA. Also Saeran!

The hot mug of tea warms your fingers as you make your way out of the kitchen and towards the open office space that extends into your living area. Placing it down, you pick up your phone before quickly signing into the messenger. There’s no one there and you proceed to sit, sipping the hot drink as you absentmindedly scroll through the missed chats.  
An easy smile graces your lips as you read what everyone had been talking about for the past few days.  
Yoosung was still raving about LOLOL, occasionally stopping to complain about school and assignments before signing out, either being called to another game or getting bored of the conversation. He was such a positive person and was the first to make you feel comfortable after you had joined the RFA. You’d begun to look forward to his calls, his brightness infectious. You never really had to talk much when he was around as he had more than enough to say, filling any awkward moments of silence effortlessly. Apart from his obsession with gaming that you never really understood, he was very easy to get along with. 

Scrolling again, you find that Jaehee has logged in occasionally, updating everyone on how plans for the café were going. You were ecstatic when she had announced that she was quitting as Jumin’s assistant and opening up a café, something she had always dreamed of. She was happier, less stressed, more relaxed. You had noticed that she’d ditched the glasses and started to grow out her hair. You couldn’t be happier for her. As the only two women in the RFA, you’d bonded quite quickly and she’d come to tell you stuff she would usually have kept to herself. The two of you shared a mutual love of coffee and hot drinks and you made a mental note to visit her soon. 

Seven had logged in even less than usual, if that was even possible. He was busy as usual but less stressed out, spoke less about what he was doing. You had noticed his tendency for secrecy very early on. Whilst the others spoke openly about what they were up to in regards to work and their personal lives, he tended to avoid those topics of conversation, instead relying on his own brand of humour to derail specific talks. You didn’t really mind. Being a private individual yourself, you usually helped him out and he’d call you after chatrooms had closed, thanking you for helping him out of particularly tight spots.

Jumin never really had much to say. He usually only came to talk in between his various business meetings and trips, his sentences short and to the point before he was off again. You enjoyed when he talked about Elizabeth the 3rd, not only because it showed he was capable of having and expressing human emotions, but because you really liked cats. After Jaehee had quit, he would occasionally drop Elizabeth over at your house. It had taken a couple of weeks of subtle persuasion to convince him but after noticing how well you and Elizabeth got on, he would contact you a few days before business trips, asking if you could possibly look after her. The answer was always yes and he would express his gratitude in the form of lavish presents on his return.  
You glance over at the latest one on the mantelpiece by the fireplace. It’s a hand-woven basket that he had made especially for you during a business trip to Egypt. It’s in your favourite colours, with two woven pictures of hairless Siamese cats on either side.  
You would never admit it but it was the most thoughtful gift he’d given you. The both of you had spent hours discussing it and the history of Egypt’s love of cats both in the chatroom and at his penthouse over several bottles of wine. 

Saeran… you find the use of his name strange even without saying it aloud. He’s rarely ever logged on and when he is, he hardly ever talks, instead choosing to listen to everyone else, only giving his input when addressed specifically, and usually by his brother. It was taking everyone time to adjust to him, with Jumin and Yoosung being the ones most likely to engage him in conversation. You had never been in a chatroom with him before, whether that was a good or bad thing you didn’t know. Not yet. 

And Zen… you notice he hasn’t logged in as much as usual. Neither have you.  
You hope the other members haven’t caught on. Jaehee and Jumin in particular are incredibly perceptive, their eyebrows having shot up a couple of times at the two of you and you had practically felt Jumin clear his throat, a speech about the dangers of living together before marriage at the tip of his tongue. Jaehee had kept quiet, chewing at her bottom lip as she fought an internal battle with her opinions. You can only imagine what they’d think now, _if only they knew._ A shudder runs through you at the thought.  
You shake your head sharply, not in the mood or the state of mind to assess the status of you and Zen’s relationship. Instead, you turn to your laptop, the half empty mug of tea now cold. Sighing, you move to turn on the kettle before returning. 

**********

You’ve been busy for almost an hour before your phone beeps, notifying you that someone has entered the chatroom. You’d forgotten to sign out. You grab your phone, ready to type out a quick message to whoever has logged in, telling them you were busy.  
You stop, fingers hovering over the screen at the name of the person who’d logged on. It’s him. 

_Saeran: MC. Hello_  
_MC: Oh, hey. Urm, sorry… I forgot to sign out. I actually have to g-_

**\- Saeyoung has entered the chatroom –**

_Saeyoung: MC! Hi! Hey! Hello!_

You groan audibly. You’d planned to leave the chat quickly but with Seven here… 

_MC: Seven, hey. I was just about to-_  
_Saeyoung: Were you talking to Saeran? Did I interrupt anything???_

He sends one of his shocked emoji’s, the cartoon Seven’s glasses breaking and you lean back in your seat, shaking your head in silent amusement.

_MC: No, that’s not it. Actually Seven…_

You sit up straight, having remembered something.

_MC: … I’m glad you’re here_  
_Saeyoung: Me?? Why??_  
_MC: Jumin told me you talked to him about Saeran after our session_  
_Saeyoung: And…?_  
_MC: And… you weren’t supposed to_  
_Saeyoung: Am… am I in trouble??_  
_MC: Let’s talk later. I don’t want to discuss this here_  
_Saeran: …_  
_Saeyoung: Omg… OMG_  
_Saeyoung: MC!!_  
_Saeyoung: PLEASE…!_  
_Saeyoung: FORGIVE ME!!_

You send an emoji of your own. It’s a mini you, arms crossed over your chest as you tap one foot, a look of steel on your cartoon face. 

**\- Saeyoung has left the chatroom –**

_Saeran: I think you scared him off_  
_MC: Good_  
_Saeran: You said you’d talk to Saeyoung later. Are you coming over?_  
_MC: Yes. I need to talk to him personally_  
_Saeran: He told me it’s your day off. You don’t have to_

Your eyebrows furrow and you take a moment to reply. Is he concerned? 

_MC: It’ll only be a few minutes. I should get going. Oh! I almost forgot_

You’re out of your seat, making your way towards the bedroom. You hesitate, wondering if what you’re about to say is a good idea.

_Saeran: ?_  
_MC: I er, I always bring Seven some snacks every once in a while. Urm, I was wondering… would you like anything?_

He’s not responding and you find your fingers at your mouth, suddenly anxious.

_Saeran: You don’t have to_  
_MC: I want to! Really_

You type hurriedly, hitting the send button with more force than necessary. Why are you so nervous?

_Saeran: Well… I like ice cream_

Your eyes widen and you stop in your tracks, typing out another hurried message

_MC: You do? Me too! Ok, I’ll bring some ice cream. See you later_

**\- MC has left the chatroom –**

It takes a good few seconds for you to process that you’d just had a conversation with him, _an actual conversation._ You push open the door to your bedroom, a feeling unlike any other setting off ideas in your head. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to help him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought MC's emoji was so cute! I wonder if Saeran has any...?


	9. Favourite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes Seven being tortured, MC questioning her sanity and Saeran being really adorable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven was not harmed (that much) in the making of this chapter

You head towards Seven’s apartment, several carrier bags clutched in each hand. You’re about to place them down, reach for the dictionary somewhere in your bag before the door swings open, Saeran on the other side.  
“MC,” he stands there looking at you and for a second you catch something in his gaze, a flash of delight before it disappears, swallowed up by his usual look of indifference. “Come in.”  
You step in and he suddenly advances towards you, arm stretched and you visibly flinch, step back at the unexpected movement.   
“I was…” his sentence trails off as he points at the bags in your hands and you realise he wanted to help. He wanted to help and you flinched, showed that you were still wary of him.   
_‘Dammit, MC,’_ you scold yourself internally. How is he supposed to trust you when you can’t even stand next to him without reacting negatively? Shaking your head slightly to clear the thought, you look up just in time to see the hurt in his eyes dissipate as he turns his head to the side, the sound of Seven barrelling towards you diverting your attention. 

“MC!” He greets the bags rather than you, takes them from your grip before leading the way to the kitchen and you find yourself smiling despite the seriousness of your visit.   
“Honey buddha chips!” He exclaims as he grabs a handful of packets, squeezing them against his chest, eyes shining before he turns to you, arms outstretched.   
You notice Saeran in the corner of your eye as you make your way towards Seven, step into his personal space as he moves to envelope you in one of his bone crushing hugs.   
You move forward before he can take another step, hand darting out to grab at the lobe of his ear and he yelps in surprise.   
“Ah! MC, that hurts!”  
“Good,” you comment coolly, head cocked to the side as you observe him. He has his head twisted at an unusual angle, almost standing on his tiptoes as he tries to reduce the pressure of your fingers on his earlobe, a particularly sensitive area you’d accidently discovered a couple of weeks ago.  
“So Seven,” you begin, watching him squirm in your grip, “I wanted to talk to you about the subject of confidentiality. You see, it’s an ethical issue defined as rules or acts put in place to restrict access to certain information. Why do you think that is?”  
“MC, can we maybe do this- ah! Ah, that really hurts!” he whines as you gently twist, the movement causing him to stand to his full height, face turning a shade of red you’ve never seen before. “It’s to keep people safe!” he cries out and you reduce the pressure slightly, not done yet.  
“Do you understand why I’m mad?”  
“Be-because I told Jumin?” he squeezes his eyes shut, prepares himself for the next twist of your fingers but nothing comes.  
“And why shouldn’t you have told him?” you push. He thinks for a few seconds, blinks furiously as his brain works to come up with an answer that won’t result in further pain.   
“Because… because it’s none of his business?” You release him, pull your hand back from his face as you step away. He stands there confused, eyes wide, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead as he gapes at you. Finally realising you’ve let him go, he slaps a hand over his ear protectively before scooping his snacks into the other, pulling them defensively to his chest before skirting around you and bolting out of the kitchen, muttering words incoherently under his breath. 

You turn to find Saeran standing at the entrance, his mouth hanging open slightly at what just transpired. You flash him a bright smile and he visibly blanches, hand unconsciously ghosting over his ear. You find yourself grinning at the sight and before you know it you’re laughing, leaning against the counter to steady yourself. Uncontrollable giggles bubble forth from your chest, escape between your lips and you double over, the thought of Saeran asking Seven to cancel all further sessions with you popping into your head, fuelling the laughter until you find yourself gasping for breath, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. You don’t know how long it takes for you stop, stomach aching as you stand up straight, wondering what to say to Saeran.   
You can only imagine what he must think of you, attacking his brother one minute and bursting into laughter the next. You wouldn’t blame him if he questions your professionalism. Taking a deep breath, you gather your resolve before finally deciding to turn towards him.

“You got the ice cream.” His voice is clear as he makes the statement, speaks it as fact. He was waiting for you, still standing there, almost afraid to approach.  
“I- yeah, I did,” you turn from him back to the bags on the counter, glad that he spoke first, gave you the chance to compose yourself.  
For a second your mind lets you wonder if he did that on purpose but you quickly dismiss the idea, not understanding why he would. He clears his throat, breaks the awkward silence again and makes his way to the counter, leaving a comfortable distance between you.  
“Would you like some?” he’s unpacking the bags, freezer open as he puts the tubs of ice cream away.  
“No, I urm… I should get going,” you find yourself stutter, gesturing towards the front door, hoping he’ll understand.   
“You bought a lot, I won’t miss a tub,” he sounds confident, nonchalant but his head is practically buried in the freezer.   
“If you’re sure?”  
“I’m sure,” he replies, voice soft.  
You smile before responding. “I’m just gonna lock the car. I’ll be right back.” 

You return to find the kitchen empty, Saeran nowhere in sight. An open tub of ice cream sits on the counter and you move towards it.   
It’s your favourite flavour, a spoon standing upright inside it.


	10. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes tears, fears and protective MC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always felt that Seven was terrified of his brother never wanting to open up to him again. MC is almost like a lifeline to Saeran and he's scared of losing that connection

He picked out your favourite flavour. You stare at the tub, a feeling you can’t express let alone put into words surging through your heart. It cascades over the edges, spills forth before spreading throughout your extremities. The ice cream sits there innocently, completely unaware of its effect on you. It’s melting around the edges, the spoon shifting as the solid ground beneath it starts to thaw.  
You reach a hand out cautiously, the ice-cold exterior numbing your fingers, pulling you from your thoughts and back into your surroundings. You grab the spoon, dig it deep into the container before scooping it out and placing it in your mouth. Your eyelids flutter at the familiarity, taste buds shocked awake by the smoothness of the ice cream as it slips over your tongue, leaving it pleasantly cooled, lips tingling ever so slightly.  
You lose track of how long you stand there for before you finally decide to move, drop the spoon back in the tub before exiting the kitchen, making your way towards Seven’s workstation. 

You rap against the glass door with your knuckles and he swivels around in his seat, headphones over his ears. He must’ve noticed something off about you because he drags them off his ears to leave them around his neck, moving quickly to open the door.  
“Hey, MC,” he says softly and you look up at him before stepping in, moving past him into the room. Four large monitors take up an entire wall, a large desk and leather chair facing them. The keyboards are littered with crumbs left over from honey buddha chips, empty cans sprawled all over the desk. It’s an organised mess, an environment that only Seven can comfortably work in. You suddenly realise that these very monitors must’ve been where he watched over you from whilst you stayed at Rika’s apartment.

“MC?” The concern in his voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn back to face him.  
“How does he know?” your voice is barely above a whisper, so quiet that you don’t think he’s heard you but he has. His eyebrows furrow in confusion at your question until he notices the tub clutched firmly in your hand.  
“Oh,” he scratches at the back of his neck hesitantly, “I er, I told him. After the chat… he came up here to ask me what flavour you like.”  
You nod, glance down at the container as your mind works overtime to deconstruct his actions, determine why he’d ask.  
“He’s really sorry, MC… for what he did to you.” Seven’s looking at you expectantly, hand still at the nape of his neck. He’s clearly uncomfortable, unsure of what you’re thinking.  
He pushes on, hoping for a response.  
“I know you think he’s past helping bu-“  
“I don’t.” Your voice is clear, forceful as you rebut his claim and Seven notices the fire in your eyes as you do. He nods, hand dropping from his neck to rest by his side.  
“I just…” you sigh, the uncertainty you’ve felt ever since you agreed to help Saeran showing, weighing heavily in your words. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to help him.”  
“Because you’re scared?”  
“Because I don’t know if he’ll let me,” you state, finally voicing your concern and you see the fear you feel reflected in Seven’s eyes, realise that he’s most probably thought the same thing many times.  
“MC…” he moves towards you, pushes his glasses up his nose with a finger before gripping your upper arms, squeezing reassuringly.  
“He’s let you in more than you can ever imagine. Sometimes I think…” he looks down, squeezes your arms again before locking his gaze on yours and you flinch internally at the pain etched across his features, his eyes glistening slightly behind the lens.  
“I think you’re the only person he’ll listen to.”  
“Seven…” you squeeze your eyes shut briefly before opening them again but he’s still there, his hands still on you and you take a shaky breath.  
“Even if you’re scared of him MC, please just… give him a chance. He’s the only family I have.” His voice cracks on the word family.  
You shake your head vigorously and he releases you, features twisting as he tries to comprehend your wordless reply.  
“I’m not scared of him,” you say, finally finding your voice. “What happened, what he did… it wasn’t Saeran.” 

You close your eyes again, take the time to grasp what you’ve just said. You were never really scared of him, only of what he’d done, whether he could revert, try to hurt you again. You would never forget the indifference in his eyes that time, the way that nothing you said would get through to him. He seemed otherworldly, the lack of human emotion in his eyes and the way he talked chilling you to the bone, scarring you. But now, whenever he looked at you now… he seemed like a completely different person. _He was a different person,_ finally able to make his own decisions without being influenced by the drugs and the brainwashing. If he’d let you, you were determined to help him.  
“Saeran,” your voice shakes and you clear your throat, the feeling of his name on your tongue foreign, “he isn’t Unknown. I know that. I can’t promise you anything Seven but I’ll try… I’ll try to bring your brother back.” 

He almost falls into you, buries his head into the crook of your neck and before you know it his entire frame is shaking as he sobs. He takes shuddering breaths in, uses you for support as he breaks down and you find it hard to swallow, your vision blurring as unshed tears of your own threaten to spill down your face. You draw him closer to you, soothingly stroke his hair, whisper words of comfort into his ear.  
You can’t imagine how long he’s been holding it in, holding himself together for his brother and the RFA. You sometimes forget how hard he works, forget the raw, emotional side of him.  
You vow then and there, as his tears soak into the collar of your shirt, that you won’t give up on the Choi brothers. No matter what, you won't give up on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadness comes after happiness, that's how the world maintains balance - Seven  
> Basically me messing with you guys feelings


	11. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes more emotions, MC coming up with an idea and a 'blink and you'll miss it moment' involving Saeran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC is in for the ride of her life with these two good luck to her she'll need it

His crying subsides, reduced to occasional sniffling as he pulls away from you. His face is flushed and streaked with tears, eyes slightly puffy behind his lopsided glasses. He gives you a weak smile and you respond with one of your own, raise a hand to brush the pad of your thumb over his cheek, catch a stray tear as it falls.  
“You ok?” you ask gently.  
“Better,” he replies, voice hoarse from crying. He clears his throat before quickly swiping the palms of his hands over his face, effectively wiping away the remaining tears. He gives you another shaky smile before looking up past you towards the door.  
His expression changes suddenly, face dropping before he rearranges his features, plasters a trademark Seven smile on his lips but the pain is still clear in his eyes and the contrast sends a pang through you. You falter, torn between asking him what’s wrong and turning towards the source of his change in demeanour when a knock on the door casts your decision for you. 

It’s Saeran. He stands there, hand still raised, a look of concern in his eyes. Seven is still glued to the spot so you move, make your way towards the door to open it.  
“Saeyoung?” he makes his way towards his brother, the concern you saw on his face leaking into his voice. You’ve never heard his voice sound like that before, never heard him sound so unsure. He stands before Seven, places a hand reassuringly on his shoulder before soundlessly pulling him into a hug. You stand there feeling like an intruder, almost as if you shouldn’t be witnessing such an intimate encounter between the brothers. Seven’s chin is resting on Saeran’s shoulder, his head moving ever so slightly as he responds to whatever it is his twin is whispering in his ear. They stay like that for a while and you can’t help but marvel at how they seem to communicate so effortlessly. 

Your hand is still on the door handle and you feel like slipping out, leaving them to themselves but it’s too late. They break apart, Seven’s face less pained, clearer. He looks as if a weight has been taken off his shoulders and he smiles, a warm, genuine expression that reaches his eyes as he looks at Saeran. You find yourself smiling along with him, your heart swelling at how much happier he seems. Saeran gives him a tight, closed lip smile, pats Seven on the shoulder before heading back out of the room.  
“Wait!” your voice breaks the comfortable silence and they both look towards you, almost having forgotten you were even there. You clear your throat as Saeran stops in his tracks, Seven behind him, twin expressions of curiosity on their faces.  
“What is it, MC?” Seven asks, his voice back to its usual bright tone, slightly tinged with a hint of confusion as he looks at you.  
“I know how to help Saeran.” The words hang in the air and you wait for their response, wait to see how they’ll react. The idea came to you as you stood there watching them embrace. It seemed so simple, so obvious you couldn’t understand why you hadn’t thought of it before. They had grown up together, experienced the same upbringing. They were twins, connected. You couldn’t help one without helping the other.  
“How?” Seven’s voice bursts through your thoughts and you watch him surge forward. He reaches his brother before stopping next to him. His amber eyes are bright, fierce determination in them. Saeran stays silent, his eyes flickering over your face before he looks down at the ground.  
“By helping you,” you address Seven.  
“MC, I don’t,” he furrows his brows, “I don’t understand.”  
“I need to talk to the both of you. Together. Maybe if I can make sense of what happened… maybe I could help.”

“You already know what happened.” Saeran’s voice is low, words coming out between gritted teeth. He’s still looking down but his fingers are curled into shaking fists, skin white and taunt over them.  
You flash Seven a quick look and he turns to his brother, reaches a hand out towards him.  
“Saeran-“  
You left me!” you flinch as he explodes, raw emotion laced through his words as he pushes Seven’s hand away, shouts, throws the accusation in Seven’s face. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he glares at his brother, electric blue eyes flaming as he dares him to lie, to refute the truth.  
“I…” Seven seems to deflate before him, shoulders slumping as he regards his brother with sad eyes.  
“I left you.” You hear Saeran gasp at the reiteration, eyes widening as he stays glued to the spot, unable to move.  
“I left you Saeran and I’ll never forgive myself.” Seven sounds exhausted. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me but please… please let MC help you. Let her help us.”  
There’s charged electricity in the air as the both of you observe Saeran warily, waiting for him to respond.  
You blink and he’s moving, fast, almost flying as he charges towards the door. You stumble as he brushes past you, grabs the handle and yanks at it with more force than necessary. The entire door frame shudders as he throws the door open, glass threatening to shatter.  
You make to move, open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Instead, your hand snaps forward, reaches out and lands on the spot just above his elbow. You cringe at the move, expect him to push you away but he freezes, one foot outside the room, the other still inside. You don’t realise you’ve been holding your breath until you release it, take a shaky breath in before speaking.  
“Saeran…” your voice is so quiet you wonder if he’s able to hear you. You don’t attempt to raise it, afraid it’ll waver, give you away.  
You feel him relax under your touch at the sound of his name but it doesn’t really register in your mind as you carry on speaking. “Give me a chance.” 

Your eyes are fixed on the spot on his arm where your hand still rests. You decide against pulling it away, afraid the slightest move will set him off, cause him to react as explosively as he did towards Seven.  
He turns, the sudden movement displacing your hand, fingers slipping and falling away from him. You wait for him to shout, shove you away but again, he surprises you. He turns his face towards you, blue eyes fixed on yours, gaze unwavering as he simply looks at you. You hold his gaze with your own, will yourself to stay still, to not look away. He seems calmer, breathing even and controlled. 

_He won’t hurt you._

“You can’t help me. No one can.” He sounds utterly defeated. You can tell he made that decision on his own a long time ago. So long ago that he now believes it. You sigh heavily, mind racing as you search for anything to say to make him think differently and he blinks, takes a second to trace his eyes down the contours of your face before looking up again, piercing you to the spot with his ice-cold irises.  
“Let me try,” you whisper, almost begging him. He matches your sigh with one of his own, lifts his hand before thinking better of it. He shakes his head slightly before dropping the hand back to his side.  
“Ok.”  
All the air in your lungs leaves so forcefully it feels as if you’ve been punched. Your eyes widen as you search his face, look for absolute confirmation. His gaze soften at your expression, the corner of his lip twitching before it stills. You miss all this, unaware of the change in his demeanour, too caught up in his acceptance.  
With that he turns back, walks out of the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world of the Choi brothers is emotionally draining again good luck to MC


	12. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes sleep deprived MC, nostalgia and a little Zen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that special Xmas dlc bc wowow :')

“See you next week,” you call out to a client as they leave. You wait for them to close the door behind them before finishing their paperwork, pen moving steadily across the paper. Finally finished, you swivel in your seat before rising. Exiting the office, you lock up before stepping out into the darkening surroundings, heading towards your car. 

It’s been a couple of days since your encounter with the Choi boys and no matter how hard you try, it’s difficult putting them to the back of your mind. It felt like there’d been a breakthrough, major progress that would help Saeran down his path to recovery. You had no idea what it was that made him comply, curious about his train of thought. You found yourself sleeping fitfully, dreams disturbed as your mind raced, almost as if it was trying to figure him out. The lack of sleep had unsettled you and you’d found yourself drifting through the days as if on autopilot. You tried not to let it get to you but it was still there, a niggling thought, an itch that couldn’t be scratched.  
You had known the dangers of the job before taking it. Knew that listening to people’s deepest fears, reliving past trauma, carving a path through them on a daily basis wasn’t going to be easy. It had never gotten to you, never affected you enough to worm its way into your dreams, twist your thoughts and leave you awake for hours, unable to drift off again. But now it was. You barely knew him and he was already having an impact on you. How much further until you were past the point of no return?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the car stopping. You realise that you’re gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands, skin taunt against your knuckles at the force. You slowly pry your fingers away, force yourself to relax, focus on your breathing as you look out the window.  
You’re home. Even in this state you still somehow managed to find your way back. Taking a final deep breath, you step out of the car before locking it behind you and walking into your house. 

It suits you, perfectly matched to fit your taste. You remember moving in the night after the party. It was a welcome break from staying at someone else’s place. All the members of the RFA had worked alongside you to find the perfect place. You knew you wanted a house instead of an apartment, somewhere quiet that wasn’t too far from the city centre. You needed a driveway and if possible, a small garden. Jaehee had found the perfect place and with Jumin’s assistance, you had acquired it incredibly quickly.  
You had almost forgotten about it, too occupied with organising a party to think about a house. It was only after the party, after the guests had gone and it was only the six of you left that you remembered. Remembered that you didn’t want to go back to Rika’s apartment, that you would probably have to ask Jaehee if you could sleep over at her place. The members had been quick to shush you, told you not to worry before bundling you into a car. The journey had been quick and you all stepped out into a quiet, leafy neighbourhood. You remember Yoosung placing his hands over your eyes and you had laughed, asked him what was going on but he only told you to wait, you’d find out soon. You remember Zen taking your hand gently in his, guiding you out of the car and onto the pavement before Yoosung removed his hands from your face.  
You remember opening your eyes, blinking, seeing the most beautiful house, flanked by two large oak trees, illuminated in the soft glow of several street lights. You remember gasping, unable to move as Zen laughed gleefully at your expression, still holding your hand, as Seven and Yoosung high fived each other, as Jaehee stood by your side, glasses glinting in the light, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face.  
You remember seeing Jumin smile, a genuine smile that lit up his features. You had never seen him smile like that before and it struck you how much younger he looked, how much it suited him. You remember as he stepped towards you, placed a set of keys in your hand and you had closed a fist over the cold metal, too choked up with emotion to say anything.  
Yoosung and Seven had taken a hold of you, almost dragged you towards the front door. Your hands had shaken slightly as you placed the key in the lock and the door had opened smoothly. 

It was beautiful. Lights were on, the entire place bathed in a soft, warm glow. There was a small step just beyond the entrance for shoes and bags, a coat rack fixed to the wall. The entire place was fully furnished and you didn’t fail to notice how each member had left a little bit of their personality in the place.  
The living room had a games console tucked under the table a large, flat screen TV rested on. You had looked over at Yoosung, eyebrow raised and he’d blushed, face flushing pink. He knew you didn’t play video games. He had mumbled a quick explanation about using it to keep himself occupied whenever he visits and you had laughed, pulled him into a quick hug before ruffling his hair playfully. He had beamed at you, taking that as a yes. 

The kitchen has a state of the art coffee machine installed and Jaehee had pulled you towards it, gushed about its various features, eyes sparkling as she spoke, put forth the suggestion that the two of you should have coffee from it together sometime. You had gladly accepted her offer and she had smiled, eyes seeming to water behind her glasses as she cleared her throat, guided you quickly towards the office.

The office had three large monitors positioned on the largest desk you had ever seen and your eyes had immediately landed on Seven. He was almost bouncing from excitement as he ran around the table, babbled about the computers and you had nodded politely, not understanding a word he said. He had finished off by assuring you nothing was bugged and from then on you vowed to use your trusted laptop for everything.

There were two bedrooms but it was the master bedroom that had taken your breath away. Everything was furnished in soothing shades of grey and soft silver, the headboard of the king-sized bed made from plush, grey leather. Zen had winked at you from the other side of the room and you tuned away from his hastily, suddenly feeling very hot.  
There had always seemed to be something between the two of you ever since you had started talking and the party had cemented that. You’d met him twice before that, once on one of the most difficult moments of your life but no matter what, he never failed to make you feel safe. During the party, you had found it difficult to tear your eyes away from him, difficult to listen to anyone else, hooked on his voice, how he said your name.  
He had found it impossible to stay away from you, an arm wrapped around your waist, hands placed gently on your hips as you’d danced, warm breath tickling your ear as he leaned in, told you how beautiful you looked. 

Jumin had escorted you to the garden. There were fairy lights strung around the large trees on the perimeter. You had gasped again at the flowers, the small pond that somehow had a miniature waterfall running into it. He had informed you that it was an exact replica of his private garden and you’d teared up, touched by his gesture.

You remembered it all. How could you forget? This was your home, and they were your family. 

You blink suddenly, wonder how long you’ve been standing there for before moving forward. You stop again, unsure of what to do. It feels strange somehow, almost as if something is missing. You frown. You’ve never considered yourself a nostalgic person, more concerned with the present rather than the past. It was better that way. It hurt less, brought up less memories. 

It was safer.

Your phone rings, brings you back out of your thoughts and you scramble for it, desperate for any distraction.  
“Babe, it’s me.” your breath catches in your throat and you find it hard to breath for a second. His voice sounds different. Lower. Less playful.  
“Zen?” you ask, worried.  
“Do you remember what you told me the other night?” your stomach flips at his voice rather than his words. You know exactly what he means but it’s the way he sounds. That mixture of longing and desperation.  
“I told you I missed you,” you find yourself whisper. Even through the phone the air seems charged.  
“No,” he whispers back, voice raw with suppressed emotion, “the other thing.” You shiver slightly, gulp before answering.  
“That I… I needed you.”  
“MC... I need you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part will be up on Xmas tomorrow! Be warned, it might contain full on sin!


	13. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: includes sin and sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally did it!!

The door swings open before you can knock and you realise he must have been waiting for you, pacing the hallway as you made your way over. He grabs your hand wordlessly, pulls you in before slamming the door, pinning you against it, roughly capturing your lips against his. You sigh into him, shoulders relaxing as you let him take control, his tongue slipping past your lips and all your walls come down. You drape your arms around his neck, pull him in closer and he grunts, grips your hips tightly and pushes himself against you. You can feel the urgency, feel his hardness through his jeans and you moan, roll your hips against him. He gasps into your mouth before pulling away.  
His lips are full, eyes dark as he gazes down at you, chest heaving.  
"How was work?" He asks gruffly and the sound shoots straight down between your legs. You shift slightly, press them together and he glances down, notices a small gap between your bodies, an inch of space where they aren't touching. He removes his hands from your hips and you step forward at the loss of contact, eager to have him back and he fixes it, moves his hands down your back until they're resting on your ass, dips them a bit lower until he suddenly grasps, pulls you forward and you're finally pressed flush against him.  
You hum in approval and he smiles.  
"So… work?"  
"Bearable," you reply, arms still wrapped around his neck. He tilts his head to the side, silently asks for an explanation and you sigh.  
"I... I haven't been sleeping well lately."  
"Why's that?" He's concerned and you mentally scold yourself for making him fret. The worry in his voice leaks into his features, causes his brows to dip, a small line to form between them and you move forward, place a soft kiss over it and he visibly relaxes.  
"It's nothing. I'm sure it'll pass." A part of you, a place deep down is aware of the answer but you supress it, push it down even further. Zen doesn't need to know.  
"Hmm, you know what would help?" His eyes are glinting, hinting at his playful side and you widen your eyes, play along.  
"Sleeping pills?"  
"No," he moves his hands lightly and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. "Working up a sweat."  
"Mmm," you loosen your grip on him, tilt your head up a bit to observe his expression. "Exercise?"  
"You could call it that," he smirks and before you know it he leans down, places his warm lips against the exposed skin of your collarbone and you gasp, eyes flying open.  
"Zen..." you mutter, hands falling away from his neck as you try to stop yourself from trembling at how he's making you feel.  
"Hmm?" He enquires before pursing his lips, placing a kiss on your skin and you let out a drawn-out moan.  
"Don't- ah!" He places another lazy kiss lower down, pops a button on your blouse and you swear you would have collapsed if he wasn't holding you up.  
"Don't what?" He asks, his voice teasing as his lips move against your skin, the sensation causing you to almost choke on your words.  
"D- don't stop," you manage to stutter and he chuckles darkly, elicits a soft keen from your mouth that cuts him off sharply, causes him to pull away, look up at you. It seems as if you've unlocked something within him, eyes blown wide as he observes you. His lips are glinting and you can feel the remains of his kisses cooling against your skin. He isn't joking anymore and you gulp, aware that there's no turning back. 

You don't know how you got there but you're in his room, the lights dimmed, shadows of you both dancing across the walls. He's still holding you, trailing his lips down the side of your neck and you arch into him, hook your thumbs into the loops of his belt, teeth coming down on your bottom lip to hold back the sounds fighting to burst forth from your mouth. He takes his time until he comes to your pulse point, feels the erratic beating of your heart with his lips before placing an open-mouthed kiss over it, traces the tip of his tongue slowly over the skin before coming back to it with his lips, peppers the spot with feather like touches and you gasp, lips parted as you cry out in pleasure and you feel him smile against you, pleased with himself.  
His hands come up to your buttons and you glance down to see them tremble slightly. Your eyes fly to his face to find him gazing at you, irises wide as he waits for you, parts his lips before speaking.  
"Can I?" He sounds broken, inches away from letting his desires overtake him and you nod, give him permission with your eyes, pull him closer before speaking.  
"Yes. Please." He lets out a breath you didn't know he was holding, removes his hands from your hips before taking his time, undoing each button excruciatingly slowly and you hold back an impatient sigh, unhook your fingers before finding his belt buckle, slip it away from his trousers and his face softens, mouth hanging open slightly as he makes a low noise in his throat, quickens his pace.  
He pops open the last button, stops, stares and you start to feel self-conscious, hands moving to cover yourself up but he intervenes, grips your wrists lightly before placing them by your sides.  
"You're so beautiful," he breathes and your stomach lurches at the rumble in his voice, his pupils almost pitch black. He reaches up again, pulls the blouse away from your shoulders, leaves you exposed in just your bra, makes a sound halfway between a gasp and an exhale before bringing his mouth back down to you.  
"Mmm," you moan in pleasure, lips parted as he covers your collarbone in kisses, runs his tongue into the dip in the middle and you breath out his name, urge him on, hands on his shoulders as he moves down.  
"So beautiful," he sighs, lips brushing over your nipple through the lace and just like before you arch into him, legs weak as he moves to the other one, purses his lips around it and you jerk, tilt your head back at the feeling, eyes glazed as he sucks lightly on it, applies a bit of pressure and you're gasping for breath, clawing at his shoulders, his back as you try to find purchase, try to centre yourself before you fall. His knee suddenly comes between your legs, pries them open and you buck into him, the friction against your sweet spot urging you on, his mouth on your nipple increasing the pleasure until you come undone, throw your head back, his name spilling from your lips.  
"Zen, Zen... yes..."  
He takes his time, sweet and slow, moves to the other nipple, grazes it with his teeth and you roll your hips against his knee, press yourself further against him until he slips his hands behind your back, deftly unhooks the bra before throwing it aside unceremoniously. He returns, cups your breasts in his hands before slipping a perk nipple into his mouth, rolls his tongue around it and a choked sob escapes from your throat, the stimulation throwing you over the edge.  
He releases you, trails wet kisses down your chest to your belly button before popping open the button of your jeans, pulls the zipper down, gently tugs them down your legs and you comply, use his shoulders to steady yourself and before you know it he's kneeling before you, your trousers thrown across the room. He runs his large hands down your sides, your waist until they're resting on your hips, the warmth emitting from him searing into your skin. You gasp, hips bucking forward as he places a kiss on your thigh and you find yourself falling, back hitting the covers of his bed but you don't have time to process it as he presses the pad of his thumb against you through the thin material of your underwear and you cry out, choke on his name as he kneels between your legs, runs his finger down until it's pressed against your entrance and your eyes fly open, back arched off the bed as you ache for more. He gives you what you want, slips your pants off before circling his middle finger around your entrance, your wet heat allowing him to easily slip inside you. You moan, the sound almost animalistic as your hands fly to his head, fingers curling into the silky strands as he withdraws his finger completely before driving it back in. He feels so different from you. His finger is longer, thicker, pleasuring you more than you ever could and you cry out as he curls it inside you, finds the spot that leaves you breathless, his name spilling endlessly from you until you reach your peak. 

"Zen! I'm, I-!" You grasp the covers tightly, vision darkening as you feel yourself nearing your peak but just as soon as he starts he stops, removes his finger and you press your thighs together, unable to complain as he crawls onto you until his face is hovering over yours. You can feel him straining through the material of his jeans, his clothed member pressing against your thigh and your eyelids flutter. His face is flushed, chest heaving as he leans down, presses his lips against yours, pushes you into the mattress and you open your mouth, slant your lips against his and he moans as you move down to his shirt, fingers working at the buttons until he's exposed. You break the kiss, take the time to run your hands down his bare chest, marvel at the curves of his muscles. He's lean, lithe with the body of a dancer but solid, heat from him surging into you. 

You don't realise anything until he fumbles at his bedside drawer, the rusting of a package bringing you back to reality, the haze lifting as he rips it open, slips the condom over his length. He's so close, his nose brushing against yours as he pants, looks down between you before glancing back up.  
"Please," you breath, voice weak as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pull him further down, "Zen..."  
He groans, positions himself before pushing into you slowly, inch by inch until he's fully sheathed inside you. Your mouth is open but you're unable to make a sound, hips pressed against his as you take the time to adjust to him. He fills you perfectly, completely and you sigh, urge him onward by running your hands down his back and he grunts, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He thrusts forward, a long lazy stroke that causes you to make a sound deep in your throat and he sighs your name, pushes in deeper and you gasp at the feeling, fingers digging into the muscles of his back.  
"MC, I- ah, I-" he grunts, thrusts into you faster and you clench around him, your walls pulling him deeper and he gasps, his hips stuttering before he goes even faster, thrusts in and out of you, the sound of skin against skin reverberating around the room. You find yourself nearing your peak and you moan, Zen moaning along with you, the sound mingling with your ragged pants. You trail your hands up his back, around his neck before tugging at the band around his ponytail, slipping it off. His hair falls over you, shields you from the world and you can’t help but marvel at the beauty of it. He suddenly pulls you up into his lap and you throw your head back, the new position pushing him even deeper inside you. He places a hand between your bodies, brushes his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves of your clit and your hips jerk, buckle before you gyrate onto him and he wraps an arm around your back, holds you still as he thrusts upwards, the force of his movements pushing the air out of your lungs. His hair covers you both and in that moment, nothing else matters as you move against each other.  
"MC, fu- I'm, I'm co-" he thrusts upwards one last time, presses his thumb against you before stilling and you throw your head back, see stars as you find your release along with him. You feel him jerk, once, twice, three times inside you, burying himself deeper and you hear him cry out, push his head into the crook of your neck as the both of you come down from your high. 

You stay like that for a while, him still inside you as he holds you against him. It doesn't take long before you feel him harden again.  
You forget everything that night as he shows you, again and again, just how much he was holding back. You lose count of how many times the both of you climax, how many times he moans, cries out and sobs your name. You forget everything, everything except him and when it's all over, as you lie in his arms, you sleep peacefully for the first time in days. 

********

You wake up with a start, mind fuzzy as you try to find your bearings. It takes a second for memories of the night before, memories of the early morning to flood back and you smile to yourself, brush your fingers over your lips as you try to remember the number of times he kissed you, mumbled your name against them. They’re swollen, slightly sore and your body complains as you shift, every inch of you aching, muscles protesting as you sit up. You look around the room but Zen is gone, his side of the bed cold. You slip out of the bed, search for something to wear before your eyes land on the perfect item of clothing. Smiling again, you stand up gingerly, wince as you make your way over to it. 

You yawn, arms outstretched as you pad into the kitchen, bare feet cool against the wooden floor. You’re wearing Zen’s shirt from the night before, the first few buttons undone, the bottom of it grazing your mid thighs.  
He’s standing by the stove with his back to you, unaware of your presence, only a grey pair of sweatpants hugging his hips. You lean against the door frame for a while, admiring the way he moves, his ponytail trailing down the bare skin of his back, muscles flexing as he works. Smiling at the sight, you tiptoe quietly in his direction before wrapping your arms around him, face nuzzled into his back. He jumps momentarily before relaxing into your embrace.  
“Morning,” he says, a smile in his voice before turning to face you.  
His breathing hitches at the sight before him, all hints of playfulness gone as his gaze drops from your face, eyes slowly trailing down your body to your bare legs before looking back up again, Adams apple bobbing noticeably as he swallows.  
“You’re um… you’re wearing my shirt,” he says, voice dropping as his hands reach for your waist before you step back, hop onto the counter, using your hands to push yourself backwards, the shirt hitching further up your legs. You hear him gulp as he comes after you as if in a trance, hands placed lightly on your knees before he squeezes, applies pressure as he slowly runs his fingers up your thighs, his touch leaving trails of heat on your bare skin.  
You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, hold back a groan as you tip your head back at the sensation, the spring of desire coiling up tightly inside of you. He stops touching you and your eyelids flutter open to see why. His eyes are fixed on the job at hand, his long fingers deftly working at the buttons of the shirt, popping them open one after the other.  
“What are you doing?” you sigh, the need evident in your voice.  
“I’m taking back what’s mine,” he answers, his words eliciting a soft hum from you as you wonder if he means his shirt or your body but your thoughts are cut short as he impatiently undoes the last button, his hands on your chest, your shoulders, ripping the shirt off you before returning, his body slotting between your legs, hands all over. You sigh in content, lean back as he takes the time to trace his fingers and then his mouth across your skin, mapping out the path he’d memorised the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys all had a nice day. I'll be on holiday until the new year but I'll still be updating so watch this space!


	14. Receive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes even more smut!! sweet Zen and sinful MC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! I hope you guys have an amazing day and an even more amazing year! Here's some MC x Zen ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) to ring in 2017

The two of you have breakfast on his sofa, backs against the armrests, feet tangled as you eat in comfortable silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other before looking away, smiling, repeating the process. He runs his foot up your bare leg and you squeal at how cold it is before batting it away. He laughs, loudly and without hesitation, the sound filling the room and your chest, making you feel content, happy.  
You decide to give him some of his own medicine, wait until he forks some eggs into his mouth before stretching your leg out, passing it through his open ones without notice until it brushes against his inner thigh and he jolts, inhales the food and spends the next minute coughing and wheezing. You find yourself laughing, stop when he pouts, his face tinged pink, lips parted as he takes deep breaths in, recovers. You place your plate down before crawling over to him, rest your hands on his chest and place a chaste kiss on his lips. He tries to capture them against his but you pull away, gaze up at him through your eyelashes.  
"I'm sorry," you whisper and he shakes his head, everything forgiven, leans forward and cups your cheek before he's kissing you back and you shift, position yourself so that you're kneeling between his legs. The kiss is slow, lazy, the two of you taking your time, no urgency fuelling the fire and you scoot closer, constantly craving the feeling of him pressed against you. He complies, snakes an arm around your waist before pulling you in and you smile against his lips, forever amazed at how he seems to know what you want, always gives it to you. 

He squeezes your midriff and you hiss, break away from him abruptly at the sudden dull ache radiating from your waist and he frowns.  
"What's wrong?" he asks, removes his arm gently.  
"I'm sore," you explain and he smirks, brushes a hand through his hair, eyes sparking.  
"Was I a bit too rough with you, babe?" you roll your eyes before slapping him playfully in the chest and he rubs at the spot, feigns injury. You laugh softly, humour him with a quick kiss before manovering yourself around him, standing up before stretching. You wince, glance over at Zen as he gets up and leaves the room. Your eyes follow him to the door before you give up, flop back down on the sofa before yelping in pain.  
He comes back a few minutes later, reaches a hand out to you silently and you take it, follow behind him until you reach the bathroom. He ushers you in, gestures to the bathtub filling with water and you smile up at him, lean your head against his arm affectionately before moving towards it.  
The water is just hot enough to bear, the steam coming off it smelling faintly of lavender.  
You feel his hands on your shoulders and turn to face him. He tugs you closer before unbuttoning your shirt and you tilt your head to the side, observe him silently. He catches your gaze, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as he looks away, mumbles.  
"Don't misunderstand. I'm really taking it back now."  
You laugh softly, glance down at his fingers quickly before looking up.  
"Thank you, Zen," you say quietly, look into his eyes and hope he sees how happy you are, how safe and content he makes you feel.  
"Ah, MC..." He groans lightly, pulls you in closer before slipping the shirt off your shoulders.  
"What?"  
"Don't tempt me," he finishes and you can't help but smile before biting your lip, unsure of what laughing may do. He could take it as a sign of temptation, use it to his advantage and for a second you consider it, want it. Want him. But you hold back. There'll be plenty of time for that later. 

You step into the bathtub, gently lower yourself into the water before leaning back, a soft bath pillow cushioning your head and you close your eyes, feel yourself relax as the warm water envelopes you. You've almost forgotten about Zen, completely lost in the feeling of tranquillity before your eyelids flutter open as he presses his lips against your forehead.  
"I'll be back," he promises before leaving, closing the door softly behind him. You can't help but smile, lips pulling up from pure bliss and you sink lower into the water, the muscles in your shoulders relaxing.  
You think back to his words, the way he teased you about being too rough but if anything, he was incredibly gentle. He touched you so softly, spent his time peppering every inch of your skin with kisses, held you close throughout. He wouldn't let you do anything, was too concerned with your own pleasure that he completely disregarded his own, only reached his peak along with you. You shouldn't be surprised, he had told you that night on the rooftop. Had told you that no matter what, you come first. That he would only be selfish after you were satisfied. You were, but you knew he would never voice it, would never ask anything of you no matter how much he craved it.  
Zen was that much of a gentleman.  
You open your eyes, unaware of how long you sat there for, only the cooling water acting as an indicator of time. You resolve to fix his gentlemanly ways as you step out and wrap a large, fluffy towel around yourself. 

The door of the master bedroom is wide open and you look in, find it empty. A stack of neatly folded clothes sit on top of the covers and you step closer to find some underwear, a casual t-shirt and shorts waiting for you. You drop your towel, quickly pull the clothes on before picking it back up, wrapping it around your slightly damp hair and exiting the room. 

You find him sprawled across the sofa, a smart dress shirt tucked into his trousers, remote resting in his hand as he watches the flickering screen of the TV. He notices you, drops the remote before flashing you a smile, opening his arms wide and you make your way over to him, climb into his lap, back to him as he envelops you in his arms, the scent of him mingled with his signature cologne invading your nostrils and you turn your head, bury your face into his shoulder.  
"Hey," he says softly and you hum against him, the low tone of his voice echoing through you.  
"You said you'd come back," you murmur, twist your head to the side, lean upwards before placing a kiss on the underside of his jaw and his eyelids flutter at the sensation, a small smile on his face before he leans even further down, places a kiss on the tip of your nose and you giggle, the sound bubbling forth from your lips and you feel him relax against you. He keeps his lips against your skin, trails them down until they're at your top lip and you strain your face upwards, desperate for contact but he pulls away and you whine, the sound eliciting a deep rumble from his chest.  
"Did you miss me?" he asks, the corners of his lips pulling up into another easy smile.  
"Yes," you breath, lean up for another chance but he pulls back.  
"Tease," you huff impatiently and he laughs again, leans down before moulding his lips against yours and you sigh into him, place a hand on his thigh before squeezing lightly and he moans into your mouth, presses himself against your back, angles his head to deepen the kiss.  
You pull away briefly and he frowns, leans forward but you turn around until you're facing him, place your hands firmly against his chest, effectively stopping him before making your way out of his lap and straddling his thighs. The towel slips from your head, stray strands of hair falling across your face as the rest falls across your shoulders and you push firmly against his chest until his back is pressed flush against the armrest. He reaches a hand up, brushes the hair off your forehead.  
"Where were we?" you whisper, a smile in your voice before you lean back down, drag your tongue across his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth and he groans, rests his hands gently on your waist. 

You pull away, open your eyes to gaze at him as he looks up at you, his brows knotted, swollen lips parted. You slide your hands up his chest slowly, reach for the buttons of his shirt, pop them open one by one, never taking your eyes off him. His pupils are almost pitch black and he groans, swallows thickly.  
"You'll be the death of me, MC," he mumbles, voice heavy with arousal and you smirk, pop open the last button, tug the shirt out from his trousers and he shifts underneath you, shrugs it off before you fling it over your shoulder, eyes still trained on him.  
You can feel him, feel his length hardening against your inner thigh and you hum, tip your head back before rolling your hips against his, hands braced against his bare chest.  
He lets out a shaky breath, hips jerking, stuttering before instinctively bucking up against you, his hands gripping your waist hard, tight enough that you'll feel him on you hours later.  
"Fuck," he hisses, ruts against you twice in quick succession, the delicious friction between you driving him onward.  
"Mmm," you moan, the sound of him swearing causing your legs to twitch, wetness pooling between them and you press down on him, cause him to grunt in pleasure, his mouth open soundlessly.  
You take advance of the moment, lean down until your chest is pressed tightly against his before slipping your tongue past his parted lips. You explore the warm, wet space, massage his tongue against yours before latching your lips around it and sucking hard, mimicking the movement of him into your hours earlier.  
He cries out, the sound muffled and you swallow it down, release him before biting down gently on his bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth and he's gasping, panting your name as he arches his back, holds you down against him, thrusts upwards hard and fast.

You slide your hands down his chest, deftly pop open the top button of his trousers before he grips your wrists firmly, makes to push them away.  
You reluctantly pull away from him, place your lips to the corner of his mouth.  
"Zen," you murmur against him, voice almost raspy with need, "let me take care of you."  
"You don't have to," he replies, voice tight as he fights against his urges and you shake your head softly.  
"I want to. Let me."  
"MC..." he almost chokes on your name, voice faltering as his fingers loosen their grip around your wrists and you push forward, trail your lips over his skin before placing them over the shell of his earlobe, breathe your wish into his ear, tip him over the edge.  
"Let me take care of you, Zen. Please."  
His hands slip away from yours with a groan and you trail your lips back down, rest them against his jaw before bringing a hand up to brush against the bulge straining against his trousers. He makes a strangled noise, tips his head back as his hips jerk forward.  
"MC," he pants, reaches out to grasp onto you but you move away, slide your hand up his crotch until you're palming him, at the same time place a wet, open mouthed kiss over his neck and he cries out, thrusts upwards into your hold before stilling, the sound of his ragged breathing filling the room. 

You push yourself off him, kneel back down between his slightly bent legs before reaching for the zipper of his trousers, pull it down slowly and he exhales forcefully before lifting his hips, allows you to pull them swiftly down his legs, toss them aside before returning.  
He's straining against the material of his boxers, a growing damp patch indicating where the head of his member lies, the force of his arousal creating a tent in the briefs.  
You ignore it, make your way back up, place a flurry of kisses down the column of his neck and he emits a low whine, hands gripping the cushions beneath him. You dip lower, brush your lips against a nipple and he grunts, hips lifting up in surprise and you smile against his skin, skim the pad of your thumb against the other and watch as he writhes beneath you, gasps for air.  
You decide to give him what he wants, remember to save the teasing for another time as you reach the sharp v of his abdomen, trail your fingers over it before following it as it dips beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. You hook your thumbs underneath the elastic, tug it down over his hips and he helps you tug them down his legs, toss them across the room.  
His member springs free and he hisses as the cool air of the room brushes against it. It’s almost as straight as an arrow as it lies against his abdomen, a steady stream of precum forming a small pool against the skin. You reach a hand out, wrap your fingers around the base and he cries out at the contact, bucks his hips up before turning his head to the side, burying his face against the leather. You run your hand up to the swollen head of his cock, swipe some of the escaping precum with the side of your thumb before running it back down, pumping him in earnest, earning incoherent, muffled cries from him as he rolls his hips, thrusts into your hold. 

You find yourself almost pouting, want him to voice how he feels loudly without hiding it. You lean further down, teasingly exhale onto him and he twitches in your grasp, raises his head.  
“MC?” His voice is almost unrecognisable, thick and low with desire but you can sense his confusion and you take the chance, bring your mouth down on him and he cries out sharply, his shout ringing across the room. You seal your lips around him, hum in satisfaction and he gasps at the sensation, hands flying to your head as his fingers tangle themselves into your hair. You rest your tongue on the underside of his shaft, use it as a flat base and he cries out again, unable to control his hips as he rams up into your mouth, the warm, tight space breaking his resolve.  
You let him be selfish, his hands on your head, fingers gripping your hair tightly as his hips jerk upwards. You take him all in, relax your jaw as you work your tongue, massage the underside of his cock and he’s chanting your name, sliding in and out of you at a maddening pace, reaching his peak.  
He stills suddenly, pushes you further down his length, your lips brushing against his base as he releases himself into you, thick ropes of cum shooting down your throat with every jerk of his hips.  
Your name is on his lips as he comes down from his high, untangles his fingers from around your hair, mumbles something unintelligible, his head falling back against the armrest. You feel him soften, drag your mouth off him before he slips out between your wet lips with an obscenely lewd slurp.  
You move back up his body, rest your head against his chest as his breathing slowly comes back to normal, feel his heartbeat hammering against your ear. 

********

“Hey.”  
“Hey.” You’re in Zen’s bed facing him, one arm tucked underneath your head. He’s looking at you with a sleepy smile on his face and your heart swells at the sight. You shift towards him until your noses are almost touching. You don’t say anything, inside revel in the feeling of being so close to him, the warmth emitting from his body only matched by the morning sunlight passing through the slits of the blinds, sectioning the room with sharp angles of blinding light.  
“I should go,” you finally say, shift even closer to him.  
“Stay.” He commands, his voice husky with sleep and you press forward, smile against his lips.  
“I have work tomorrow,” you mumble against him and he moves, snakes an arm around your waist before drawing you close.  
“Sleep a little longer. I kept you up all night. And the night before.”  
“Mmm,” you hum, agree with him before pressing your lips against his and he parts his lips, moves them against yours, deepens the kiss.  
“I really have to go,” you sigh, pull away reluctantly and he comes after you, captures your lips back against his.  
“Stay for breakfast at least,” he says as he breaks away for air and you place a finger to your chin, contemplate his idea.  
“Just breakfast,” you smile and his eyes light up before he pulls you towards him again.  
“And a shower,” he breathes against your lips, “we need to shower.”  
“Sounds like a plan,” you laugh and he draws you closer before rolling on top of you, braces his arms either side of your body.  
“But first,” he grins, pulls the covers up over the both of you before bringing his mouth back down onto yours and you wrap your arms around his neck, let him have his way with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC x Zen spent the best part of a weekend together I hope no one noticed


	15. Lost Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes Saeran's thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so busy but the story continues! Sorry for making you wait

“MC!” Seven comes bounding down the stairs leading from his office space towards you, a mixture of confusion and curiosity marring his features.   
“Mmm?” you ask, looking back down, too preoccupied with stuffing the dictionary back in your bag.  
“I drove past your house on Friday. You weren’t in.”  
Your head snaps up, eyes wide as you regard him. He’s looking back at you expectantly, hands in the pockets of his jeans.  
“I was visiting a friend,” you answer coolly, eyes locked on his.   
His brows shoot up, disappearing in the mop of red hair covering his forehead.  
“Until Saturday night?”  
You find yourself scoffing indignantly, place down your bag before folding your arms across your chest defensively.  
“You’re full of questions today, Seven.” The statement comes out casually, almost jokingly but no one can mistake the iciness behind it. He blinks, removes a hand from his pocket before moving it to the nape of his neck, scratches at the skin.  
“I just, I- we all kind of missed you on the chat over the weekend.”  
“Oh…” your hands drop down as a sudden wave of guilt rises up within you. You weren’t expecting his answer, were certain that he’d tease you, bother you until you finally gave in. It was rare seeing him voice his true feelings like this. Once again, you’d misjudged the situation. Jumped to conclusions.   
What was it about Seven and Saeran that always proved you wrong?  
“It’s ok, MC. Really,” he mumbles, looks down at his feet before glancing back up again, flashes you a reassuring smile. “There’s always next time, right?”  
You simply nod, unable to speak. He turns to the side, gestures wordlessly to the living area before leaving.   
You stand there for a while, lost in thought before making your way in after him.

Saeran’s already in the room, fingers worrying at the sleeves of his jumper before he notices you, acknowledges your presence with a slight nod of his head. You clear your throat, compose yourself before heading towards the seat opposite the sofa. You sit down, rummage in your bag for your materials before glancing back up, notebook and pen in hand.   
They’re sitting on either end, Saeran’s body positioned in such a way that he almost looks like he’ll jump over the edge at any minute, run completely out of the room. Seven looks equally uncomfortable, hands resting on his knees as if preparing for an awkward family photo.

“Guilt.” The word rings throughout the room, hangs in the air long after you speak it. Your voice is calm, collected. It’s the voice you use for work, the calculative one reserved for moments very much like this.  
Seven blinks in wide eyed confusion, his mouth open to speak before he clamps it shut, waits. Saeran’s brows are furrowed as he regards you, shuffles until he’s sitting upright.  
“It’s why you’re both here today,” you continue. “It plays a big role in both your lives. More than it should.” You look at Seven as you speak the last few words, question the validity of your statement with your eyes. He holds your gaze for a second before looking away.  
You look over at Saeran, find him glaring at you, the cold blue of his eyes able to burn a hole through you but you hold your ground, stare him back down.  
“I know what Seven does for a living. I know a little about what you went through Saeran. Apart from that I… I’m lost.”   
His expression twists, confusion, anger, hurt flittering across his features before everything settles. His mouth is slack, the colour draining from his face as his eyes widen at your words. 

_Realisation._

You can almost see the cogs in his brain working at he looks back at all the moments he goaded you on, his words _“You already know what happened,”_ before he’d lashed out at Seven in front of you. The way he’d spoken to you, almost as if he knew you. As if he expected you to respond in kind. The way you hadn’t. Had snapped instead, responded in confusion.  
You really didn’t know anything.   
Didn’t know him at all.   
Didn’t know anything about the effect you had on him. 

He stares at you as you sit there, hand raised slightly, a pen hanging limply from your fingers. You’re leaning forward slightly, waiting for him to respond. He blinks, unable to take his eyes off you. How had he managed to get you so mixed up in his life? How was he supposed to sit here, use his words to hurt you more than he already had?  
A sudden wave of revulsion washes over him as he sits there. His eyes travel down the contours of your face, linger on the slope of your cheekbone before he springs up, digs his nails into the palms of his hands until the pain brings him back.   
“Saeran.” You’re standing, making your way towards him before you’re even aware of it. His eyes are glued to the floor, head bowed as he avoids looking at you.   
“If there’s anything you ever take away from this, I want you to know that it’s not your fault,” you whisper. He’s still looking down, hands curled into fists.  
“Saeran… look at me. Please.” He takes a shuddering breath, slowly lifts his head at your plea. The vulnerability in your voice cuts deep into him, causes his nails to dig deeper into the flesh of his palms.   
He hates the way he’s changed you. Hates how you act around him. Hates himself for it.   
“It is,” he croaks, voice hoarse with emotion. “It’s all my fault. Everything. It’s all because of me.”  
Your breath hitches at his words, at the way his eyes glimmer with unshed tears. You find yourself moving closer, almost as if to reassure him with your presence.   
“It’s not.” Your voice is steady, firm with denial of his words.  
“I can’t-,” he stops, insides stirring at the way you’re looking at him and his fingers twitch involuntarily, ache to reach out and touch you. Make up for the way he hurt you, prolong the unfamiliar but pleasant feeling that shoots through him whenever you’re near.   
“I can’t do this.”  
“Sae-“  
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, turns his back to you before making his way out of the room and towards the comfort of his bedroom. 

He barely manages to close the door behind him before his legs give way and he falls, crumples with his back towards the cold wood.   
Another realisation hits him as he sits there. The realisation that it’s too late. That no matter how hard he tries to push you away, you redouble your efforts to help him. He knows it’s a worthless cause. He’s way past the point of no return.   
The pain in his hands brings him back and he looks down, gingerly unfurls his fingers to find half-moon crescents brandished into the skin, small droplets of blood escaping from the cuts before rolling down his palms.  
He sits there, lets the pain wash over him, extinguish the feelings he felt as he looked at you. The foolish emotions that keep him up at night, whisper words of encouragement into his ears. Make him feel as if he has a chance. The pain washes them all away and he finds himself smiling faintly.   
He truly is a lost cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys now have a small idea of how Saeran feels about MC and just... it was difficult writing this


	16. Imprint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes pissed Seven, MC taking care of Saeran and him... taking care of her?

You turn to Seven, the inability to do anything for Saeran showing in the dip of your brows, the corners of your mouth taunt.  
“I’m sorry, MC,” he sighs, rises from his seat to stand before you.  
“It’s not your fault,” you mumble, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tired. It weighs heavily on your shoulders, muscles tense. You suddenly stand up straighter, a steely look in your eyes.  
“I’m going to talk to him.” You stalk out of the room, lips pressed in a tight line, eyes glued to Saeran’s bedroom door. He agreed to let you help him. No way in hell are you going to give up now.  
“Ah- MC…” Seven moves quickly, momentarily stunned by your sudden movement before he’s in front of you again, arms outstretched in a vain attempt to block your way. You brush past him, bat his arm out of the way before continuing onwards. 

“Saeran?” you say as you rap your knuckles briskly against the wood. You don’t hear anything for a while, strain your ears before making out what sounds like a sniffle, shuffling before the door opens an inch, a blue eye staring at you through the gap. You notice how it looks slightly puffy, a faint ring of red encircling it before he speaks, his voice bringing you back.  
“What?” it’s gruff, emotionless.  
“We need to talk,” you rush out, lean forward slightly, one hand braced against the door. He yanks it open with more force than necessary, unaware of the fact that you’re leaning against it.  
The next thing you know you’re falling, mouth open in a silent gasp as you tip forward, hands snapping forward instinctively to break your fall. They land on something soft, something solid and unyielding and you frown, look up before locking eyes with Saeran. You stare up at him, mouth slack as you realise where your hands are. They’re resting on his chest, palms flat out against the soft cotton of his jumper. You shrink in on yourself, make to move away but he’s faster, his fingers wrapping almost painfully around your wrists before he shoves you forcefully away from him. You stagger backwards slightly before coming to a halt, lips still parted in surprise.  
He’s standing at the doorway, eyes wide as he realises what he’s done. 

“MC!” Seven rushes to your side, hand resting gently on your shoulder. You look up at him, rub at your wrist to relieve some of the discomfort. He’s glaring at his brother, eyes almost flaming. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” he snaps, takes a step towards him.  
“I’m fine, Seven,” your voice wobbles slightly. “Really.” He doesn’t believe you however, tension in his features as his eyes zero in on your fingers against your wrist. He swears again, stalks away to the kitchen before returning. He has a bag of ice clutched in his hand and you move to take it but he bypasses you, thrusts it into Saeran’s chest.  
“You hurt her. Help her.” He growls, jaw clenched tightly before he leaves. 

Saeran’s rooted to the spot, eyes glued to your hand, the bag of ice held limply against his chest.  
“I’m fine,” you mumble quickly, reaching a hand out for the ice, “Really.” It isn’t until you take a good look at your wrist that you blink, do a double take.  
Blood. It’s smeared against your wrist, already drying and you drop the arm, inspect the other to find similar red marks. You look for a cut, expect the pain to hit you at any second but there’s nothing. Where did the blood come from? He couldn’t have grabbed you hard enough to break the skin.  
It’s then that something clicks and your eyes fly to his hands. One is furled in a gentle fist, held flush against his side, making it impossible to inspect. The other however… a soft gasp escapes your mouth and he moves, the sound acting as a trigger.  
“Saeran, you’re hurt!”  
He drops the bag of ice, makes to move back into the shadows of his room but you’ve already grabbed his hand.  
“What did you do?” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from the marks in the flesh. He stands there, lets you examine him, tries to ignore the feel of your skin against his, the way the warmth of your fingers dances along his palm.  
“Saeran…” you say again, reach for his other hand, find similar marks. “Give me a second.”  
You rush out of the room, yank the front door open before bolting towards your car. It only takes a second to find the first aid kit before you’re back, able to slip in through the front door before it closes. 

You find him sitting on the edge of his bed, the bag of ice long forgotten near the door. His hands are propped up on his knees and he’s looking down at them, almost as if he can’t believe what he’s done. He raises his head as you enter, looks at the kit before glancing back down again.  
You don’t know how to start, almost ask him to come into the living room with you before dismissing the idea. It’s clear he feels most comfortable in his room. You’ll treat him here. You shake your head slightly, brush away the thoughts creeping around the edges of your consciousness before moving towards him. You place the kit down on the bed, clear your throat before gingerly climbing on and he jerks, turns to face you, eyebrows raised in surprise.  
“Give me your hand,” you say quietly and he obeys, stretches it out towards you without question. You take a hold of it, tighten your fingers around it gently before tugging it towards you.  
“Wh-“ you hear his breath hitch, the question dying in his throat when you place your other hand against the back of his, use it to cage his in case he tries to pull away.  
“Come here,” you tell him reassuringly and he swallows, his throat uncomfortably dry. You’re sitting cross legged on his bed, holding his hand, pulling him towards you.  
He complies, lets you guide him forward until he’s sitting cross legged in front of you. You smile at him, reassure him again before reaching towards the kit.  
Your smile knocks him back and he wants to scold you, tell you not to smile at him like that. But then again, he never wants you to stop. 

You remove all the equipment you need before looking back up at him. He flinches, caught in the act of staring and you supress the smile that threatens to grace your lips.  
“How did you hurt yourself?” you ask. “Was it glass?”  
He shakes his head. “No.” Clears his throat before trying again. “My nails.”  
You nod grimly before reaching for some cotton pads and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.  
“This is gonna hurt,” you warn him before grasping his hand tightly, splashing a generous amount of alcohol on his palm. He hisses in pain, eyes screwed shut tightly, the sound escaping between gritted teeth. He doesn’t try to pull away, watches silently as you clean away the blood, the marks embedded in the flesh more prominent. You procced quickly, do the same with the other hand before disposing of the soiled pads in a small plastic bag.  
“I’m going to bandage everything up now, ok?” you tell him and he nods in understanding. You shift closer to him, place his hands on either one of your thighs, palms facing up. You notice him visibly tense, pink creeping up the skin of his neck and you break out into a wide smile, find his shy discomfort endearing. He turns his head to the side but it’s too late, you’ve already seen a new side to him. 

He lets you bandage his hands without protest, the gauze wrapped securely around both palms, his fingers and thumbs left exposed. He gets up as soon as you finish, leaves the room. You’ve just finished packing up when he returns, a tub of ice cream in hand.  
“I should get going,” you tell him, make to get up before he climbs in, sits back where he was.  
“Give me your hand.” His voice is gruff, almost emotionless but you notice the slight waver in it.  
“What?” You blink blankly, unsure if you’ve misheard but he stretches his hand out towards you, cements his words with his actions.  
You lift your hand up, raise it slowly before closing the gap between you. He waits patiently, wonders how you can be so trusting, so open. You’re sitting on his bed, facing him, stretching your hand out towards him.  
So trusting.  
He doesn’t deserve you. 

The brush of your fingers against his brings him back and for a moment he lets himself be selfish, enjoys how your skin feels against his. How he wouldn’t mind living in that feeling forever.  
“Saeran?” The sound of your voice brings him back for the second time and he moves quickly, picks up the pint of ice cream before turning your hand over, pressing it gently against your wrist.  
You gasp, eyes widening at the sudden cold before it washes over you, erases the discomfort and you find yourself sighing in content, the corners of your lips pulling up in a blissful smile.  
“That feels good,” you tell him and he nods briskly, the movement causing his fingers to accidently move against your skin. He freezes, looks up at you but your eyes are closed so he repeats the movement, traces a faint circle against your wrist.  
“Saeran.” His name comes out as a sigh and his blood runs cold, fingers stopping their movement.  
“Thank you,” you finish and he finds himself frowning.  
“I'm not done yet.”  
“Still.”  
Before long he’s finished and your eyelids flutter open. He’s watching you intently, doesn’t look away when you catch his gaze.  
“Thank you,” you repeat and he nods in acknowledgement.  
“Thank you,” he says and you smile.  
“My pleasure.”  
“MC…” He stops, drops his gaze, focuses on the tub in his hand.  
“Don’t apologise.” You tell him, voice soft. His head snaps back up, cold fire burning in the icy blue depths.  
“I hurt you.” He growls, barely contained anger in his voice.  
“And I forgive you, Saeran.”  
“MC…” the fire dies down, replaced with guilt. He feels sick, doesn’t understand why you’re so forgiving. He doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve any of it.  
“Don’t try and argue with me. You won’t win.” You smile at him, effectively throw him off and he drops it, decides to bask in the warmth of your smile while it lasts.  
“I’ll see you next time?” You ask, suddenly nervous.  
“Ok.”  
“It’s a date,” you smile, pack up your belongings before leaving. 

He sits there, your final words along with that smile leaving him almost breathless. 

_It’s a date._


	17. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes Seven lying and MC trying  
> Warning: includes spoilers for Seven's route

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so shocked during Seven's route when I realised he kidnapped Saeran and didn't let him get the treatment he needed. This chapter is the first part (second will be published tomorrow) of MC trying to persuade Seven to rethink his decision

The weight of you on him draws a smile on his face, the corners of his lips curling upwards easily. Your ear is pressed against his chest, nestled right above his heart. Your presence calms him like nothing else, makes him feel safe. Warm. Content. Rooted. Anchored to something comfortably familiar.  
All things he hasn’t felt in a long time.  
You shuffle suddenly, run your hand lazily up his chest and he freezes, the simple touch setting his nerve endings alight.  
“Saeran…” your voice travels up to him as if through a tunnel and he shivers, the hairs on his arms rising with unease.  
Something doesn’t feel right.  
“Saeran?” he frowns, makes to move but suddenly you’re slipping away and he reaches out-  
“Saeran!”  
His eyes snap open, body jolting at the sight of his brother looming over him.  
“Wake up,” Saeyoung grumbles, already making his way back out of the room once he’s sure his twin is awake, “it’s almost noon.”

It’s the first time he’s dreamt about you.  
The realisation hits him like a truck and he clutches at his hair, tugs at the strands as he tries to remove the image of you from his mind, purge himself of the emotions he felt, the ones that are fading already, leaving him empty and slightly nauseous. He rises quickly, throws the covers off before starting his day.

It’s always the same routine. The same dull, mind-numbing actions he’s been going through ever since Saeyoung had dragged him here. The place was almost like a fortress, everything locked down to prevent anyone dangerous entering.  
Or him escaping.  
He knew. Even though Saeyoung hadn’t voiced it, he knew.  
It was almost like being back at Mint Eye.  
Or back with her. 

Almost, but not quite. 

There was always a break in that tedious routine now. For nearly a month that break allowed him to breathe more freely, to see someone else aside from his brother.  
He didn’t realise how much he’d started to look forward to your visits until it was too late.  
And now he was dreaming about you.  
It was definitely too late. 

“Too late for what?” he flinches in surprise as Saeyoung walks into the kitchen.  
“Nothing,” he mumbles, hopes his brother doesn’t push further, ask any more questions. He needs to lose the habit of talking to himself, realises that it’s not normal, gives too much of his thoughts away. His hands start to twitch as Seven walks back out without a word, several cans of his favourite fizzy drink clutched to his chest.  
He really needs to smoke. Craves the feeling of a cigarette between his lips, the way the smoke slips down his throat, fills his lungs before retreating, taking away every bad feeling along with it before being expelled through his mouth and nose. He hasn’t been able to since the day everything had gone down, since that man who worked for his brother had given him one.  
He considers asking Saeyoung for a second before shaking his head, he’d probably receive a lecture on the dangers of smoking and a headache instead.  
He’s about to leave the kitchen, return to his room when he hears the front door click open.

“Welcome, MC,” the robotic female voice of the automated door states and he hastily retreats into the kitchen.  
He doesn’t want you to see him for some reason, is afraid you’ll be able to look inside his head somehow, read his thoughts and find out he dreamt about you. 

“Seven?” you call out, unaware of Saeran’s presence a few feet away to the left. You wait a few seconds before you hear him come down the stairs towards you.  
“Hey MC,” he says as he clears the last step. “What’s up?”  
“I wanted to see Saeran,” you tell him, look over his shoulder at the closed door to Saeran’s room as if expecting him to walk out.  
“But… you don’t have another session with him until next week.”  
“I wanted to change his bandages. I also wanted to ask him something so… if you could just tell me where he is?”  
“Oh?” Seven looks surprised at your words, eyebrows raised. “What did you wanna ask?”  
“There’s this new ice cream place that just opened,” you say in a rush, eyes bright, “I thought he might want to check it out.”  
“Ah I,” he raises a hand, scratches at the back of his neck. “I’m afraid he can’t.”  
“Wha- why not?”  
“Doctor’s orders.”  
“Doctor’s orders? Since when?”  
“Since we left.” A chill runs up your spine at the tone of his voice. It’s calm, words clipped and short as he almost spits them at you. He sounds cold, different from how he usually does and for a second you’re at a loss for words.  
“Ok,” you start, hope you sound unconcerned. Unruffled. “Can I see his discharge papers then?”

He blinks, stares at you blankly for a second before it clicks. He crosses his arms over his chest defensively, glares at you, the amber of his eyes blazing.  
“You can’t take him out, MC.”  
“Why not, Seven?” you shoot back, take a step towards him.  
“I already told you. Doctor’s orders.”  
_“Bullshit.”_  
“What?”  
“I said bullshit, Seven!” you shout. “Doctors encourage outdoor activity. He needs it! Do you even know how long he’s been cooped up inside for? How long has he been here with you? As long as he’s been discharged, there’s nothing that says he can’t-“ you stop abruptly, eyes wide as you suddenly realise the cause of Seven’s behaviour.  
“He hasn’t been discharged, has he?”  
“MC-“ Seven’s eyes are equally wide as yours but he looks scared, his expression betraying his emotions.  
“You ran away with him, didn’t you?”  
“MC I-I can explain, I-“  
“Did they medicate him?” He blanches at those words, face as white as a sheet.  
“Seven… did they give him his medication?”  
“I-I… I didn’t let them.”  
You take a sharp intake of breath, run a hand through your hair as you turn in a slow circle.  
“Did they tell you whether all the previous medication he was given had left his system yet?” you ask quietly, mind racing as you try to process all the information.  
“They said there was still some left.” He whispers and you whip around to face him.  
“He needs to go back, Seven.”  
“MC… I can’t. They’ll take him away from me. They’ll take him away and I’ll never see him again.” His voice wobbles, eyes shiny with unshed tears.  
“That won’t ha-“  
“He attacked a therapist MC! They said they needed to medicate him or they’d send him to the psychiatric ward! I won’t let them hurt him!”  
Your resolve breaks and you find yourself shouting back, hands curled into fists. “They won’t hurt him! He needs that medication, Seven! It’ll help to flush whatever they gave him before out of his system. I’m shocked he hasn’t already… that he hasn’t-“  
“Hasn’t what, MC?”  
“Hasn’t had vivid nightmares yet. Ones so bad he could end up hurting himself. Even others. If he doesn’t receive that medication… he might never get well again. I know Seven, I know you think you’re helping him but you’re not. _You’re killing him.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven wants to help Saeran but keeps him locked up in a windowless underground bunker and doesn't let him leave. There's a lot going on with these brothers that needs to be resolved


	18. Unspoken Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes MC, Saeran and an unspoken promise

Seven stands there, frozen, unable to speak. 

You notice a flicker of movement from the corner of your eye and turn, find Saeran standing at the doorway of the kitchen. Your stomach lurches at his presence and you realise he must’ve heard everything. You search his face, look for anything to hint at how he’s feeling but there’s nothing, his features hard to read, the human equivalent of a blank wall.  
“Saeran,” you start, stop, unsure of what to say. Seven’s still standing rooted to the spot and you move past him, make your way towards his brother.  
“I… I’m sorry you had to hear it like-“  
“I knew.” His voice is hollow. Empty. You don’t reply, wait for him to continue. He observes you for a while before he opens his mouth.  
“I liked it better… at the hospital. I could look at the sky for as long as I wanted. People left me alone. I never wanted to be here with him but the medication…,” he shakes his head sharply, eyes suddenly wide with fear, “I don’t want them to medicate me. It reminds me too much of- of that place.”  
“Saeran…” A part of you is screaming at him, telling him he _needs_ to be medicated, that he could experience disastrous side effects if not.  
“Can’t I recover without them?” He’s staring at you as if you’re the only person who can help him, like a lifeline connecting him to reality.  
“It won’t be easy, Saeran,” you tell him with a shake of your head, “I don’t- I don’t know.”  
He’s still looking at you, eyes shining with hope and you feel your stomach turn with disgust at yourself. You’re supposed to help him, promised to do your best and here you are, unable to provide him with what he wants as he stands there, almost begging you to save him.

“Jesus…” you run a hand through your hair as your vision blurs, unexpected tears springing into your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you manage to blurt out, voice thick with emotion, “I can’t.” You turn on your heel, blink furiously as you walk briskly towards the front door, yank it open before half running towards your car. You’re already reaching for your mobile, hands shaking as you make a call, slam the driver door shut before resting your forehead against the wheel.  
“MC?”  
“I need your help,” you tell him, voice wobbling with emotion.  
“What’s wrong? Where are you? Shall I send someone over?” his usually calm voice wavers, a hint of uncertainty tinging it as he bombards you with questions.  
“It’s Saeran, Jumin,” you tell him, fight back a sniffle, “he needs to be medicated but he doesn’t want it. Neither does Seven. I don’t know what to do. What if something happens? I promised I’d help him but I can’t. Jumin, I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” The last few words come out in a whisper as your voice gives way and you find yourself gripping the wheel tightly, nails digging into the leather. He listens to you blabber without a word and for a second you think he’s hung up until you hear him take a deep breath.  
“Let me make a call.” And with that he’s gone. 

You don’t know how long you sit there for, temples throbbing as you wonder what to do, how to approach the twins, what to say to them.  
The sound of the passenger door opening snaps you out of your thoughts and you look up, find Saeran leaning down into the car. You sniff, wipe your palms over your face before offering him a shaky smile, give him a small nod and he bends down, slides into the seat beside you. You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, sniff again as you try to regain your composure. You’re scared to talk, terrified that your voice will betray you, that you’ll break down in front of him.  
He needs you now more than ever, you need to be strong for him. 

“Here,” he mumbles, stretches his hand out towards you and for a minute you think he’s asking you to change his bandages until you notice something white resting in his palm.  
It’s a tissue.  
He brought you a tissue. The simple gesture brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes and you take it without a word, press it over your face before taking a shuddering breath.  
“I’m a fucking mess,” you mumble quietly to yourself.  
“Join the club,” Saeran grumbles beside you and you freeze, unsure for a second before a tearful giggle escapes your lips.  
His heart lifts at the sound. He wants you to put the stupid tissue down, wants to see you smile. The tightness in his chest eases a little as he sits there. It was unbearable when you walked out, the sound of your voice breaking reminding him he’d hurt you once again. 

“You said it won’t be easy.” His voice is steady, almost as if he’s resigned himself to his fate.  
“It won’t.”  
“But…” he hesitates, glances over at you to find the tissue still covering your face as you lean back against the headrest. “I have Saeyoung. He… he cares about me.”  
Your breath hitches at how easily he says those words. You can’t imagine the emotional turmoil he must be in.  
“He does,” you find yourself smiling, “more than anything.”  
“And,” he hesitates again, flashes you another look, “the RFA?”  
“Them too,” you whisper. He falls silent, fidgets with his fingers, unsure of what to do.

“You have me, too.” Warmth pools in his stomach at your words and he tries not to glance over at you.  
"I know."


	19. Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes some much needed Jaehee, MC needing advice/support and warm drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When uni wants you to complete 12 hour shifts for clinical placements and also have a social life. Sorry for not updating, I've been busy with school/work/lack of motivation I'm just so tired. But! Hopefully I'll be updating more consistently when I get back to my regular schedule

“Jaehee?” you call out, cautiously step into the interior of the café. She’d sent you a text just as you were finishing off at the office. You had stood outside for a while, simply staring at the words on the screen.  
_‘If you’d like to talk, you know where I am.’_  
It shouldn’t have really meant anything, wouldn’t have if not for the events that had occurred since that day with Saeran and Seven two weeks ago. You figured Jumin had talked to her, briefly filled her in on your wellbeing, asked her to have a word with you. You had not so subtly been avoiding everyone. It had started with missing chatrooms but you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You had never really kept up with them, they wouldn’t miss you. But you were wrong, they did.

Then it had been the texts. Jumin checking up on you, Yoosung asking if you were busy, Zen wondering if he should come over. You’d brushed them all off, told them about a workload that was nowhere near as busy as you had made it out to seem.  
Your days had started to meld into one meaningless extension of the next, times outside of work spent sleeping in unnecessarily, waking up with dull, pounding headaches and regrets, staying up into the early hours of the morning, watching TV as a distraction, daydreaming in the shower. It had all come to a head when you had answered a phone call absentmindedly only to hear Seven’s voice on the other side. You had hung up on him, switched off your phone before wrapping yourself in a blanket and falling into a fitful sleep on the sofa. From then onwards it had been difficult to determine how many texts and calls you had missed. You’d switched to your work phone, the other abandoned on the dresser in your room.

It wasn’t until this morning that you’d rushed out of the house, hurriedly grabbing a phone before making your way to work. You hadn’t switched it on until the last client had left and had simply stared at the screen, taken aback by the backlog of messages flashing onto the screen. It had gone on for a good few minutes before Jaehee’s message popped up on the top of the pile, sent just a few minutes ago. It was then that it clicked and you realised you had accidently picked up your personal phone.  
A pang of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach at all the missed calls and messages. It was then you had decided to bite the bullet and swallow your pride. It was what had caused you to veer off track, take a different road and see a friend.  
It was why you were here now.

The room you step into is large and bare, save for a small round table and two chairs placed in the middle. A delicate, curving staircase stands to the right of the room and your eyes travel upwards to follow it to another floor. It’s still early days, the walls bare and stripped, ready for Jaehee to make her mark upon them.  
You can already imagine the place bustling with customers, the air filled with warmth and the smell of various teas, coffees and spices. The place would look stunning in the warmer months, with the small garden to the back of the café and ample space at the front providing perfect seating area.  
A smile perks up the corners of your mouth at the thought and the guilt you felt earlier loosens its grip on you, allows you to breathe easier. 

“MC?” A pair of doors perfectly concealed in the corner swing open to reveal Jaehee. She’s wearing an apron over her clothes, faint traces of flour dusting one side of her face. She looks different without her glasses, her large, brown eyes filled with joy as she spots you.  
Your name is still on her lips and for a second she stops, the hands she was raising to her apron frozen in mid-air as she quickly assesses you, rakes her gaze up and down your figure. The delighted smile on her face slips ever so slightly before her brows draw together, completely rearrange her expression until her lips are downturned, the joy in her eyes replaced by worry.  
You quickly look down at your feet, nervously shuffle on the spot as she silently picks you apart. She must’ve noticed the dark circles under your eyes that you had frantically tried to cover up in the car, the way you’re dressed so casually for a work day, the way you don’t seem quite like yourself. She sees all this and you feel like a child again, wait anxiously for her to give her judgement. 

“It’s good to see you, MC.” She says softly and you glance up, eyes widening before you bite down on your lower lip, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead you chose to walk forward briskly, almost slam into her in your hast to wrap your arms around her neck before burrowing your face into the crook of her shoulder. You feel her pull you close, pat your back reassuringly as you breathe in the scent of cinnamon and coffee, her growing hair tickling your nose. You stay like that for a while until you feel confident enough to let go, comfortable enough to look her in the eye without turning away. She gives you a reassuring smile and a nod and you smile back, thank her wordlessly.  
“I’m sorry,” you whisper and she shakes her head, cups your face between her warm hands.  
“You have nothing to apologise for, MC,” she says so fiercely you blink in surprise, taken aback by her sudden flare of emotion. Jaehee always seemed to calm and level headed, you can’t imagine what must’ve caused her to react this way.  
“I don’t ever want you to apologise for something you can’t help,” she continues, her gaze locked onto your face.  
“Now,” her eyes soften and a motherly smile graces her lips, “would you like some cake and coffee?”  
You nod in reply and she flashes you another smile, runs the pads of her thumbs over your cheekbones quickly before letting you go and walking back through the doors. 

She returns with a tray full of treats, places them on the table and the both of you sit down facing each other. She silently makes you some coffee just the way you like it, pushes a slice of cake towards you and you thank her with another smile, grab hold of the cup with both hands before bringing it up to your face, let tendrils of steam gently caress your skin. You feel content, safer and happier than you’ve been in a while and you make a mental note to get Jaehee a gift before the grand opening.  
“How’ve you been?” she asks after a while, glad to see you eating. You look tired, worn out but more like yourself compared to when you walked in and she wonders what her and the RFA ever did to deserve you. You wouldn’t be like this now if you weren’t so caring, so determined to help and she quickly places down her mug when you sit up straighter, eyes flickering up to meet hers.  
“I’ve been better,” you answer, catch the slight grimace she expertly covers up with a straight face, unaware of how guilty she feels for playing a part of dragging you into the RFA.  
“Mr Ha-, I mean, Jumin… told me about what happened.”  
You find yourself smiling and before you know it a giggle escapes between your lips, the sound forming into a small laugh and Jaehee frowns, slightly concerned.  
“It’s nice to hear you call him Jumin,” you clarify and she blushes before ducking her head slightly. You laugh again at her reaction, remembering the time she accidently called him Jumin during a phone call with you, a time when she still worked for him. You had teased her, the sound of Jaehee flustered and rushing to explain herself something you wouldn’t forget anytime soon. 

You lose track of time as the two of you catch up. Soon the slices of cake disappear, mugs and cups empty and Jaehee retreats to the kitchen before returning with the entire remaining cake and more warm beverages. She tells you how she’s taken up baking, excitedly shows you drafts of desserts she’d like to serve, drinks she’s learning to make and you bask in her happiness, heart swelling with genuine love for Jaehee and just how hard she works. She’s so much more different from how she was when you first met her.  
She wears long, flowing skirts and dresses, gets up when she wants to and is working towards something she loves. It all looks good on her and you find yourself nodding enthusiastically at her plans, laughing at her stories and enjoying yourself so much you wonder why you would ever want to distance yourself from her. 

It isn’t until the both of you have exhausted all conversation and embraced again that Jaehee brings it up.  
“Have you talked to Seven?” she asks cautiously, unsure of your reaction. You sigh heavily, shake your head.  
“No. Why?”  
“Jumin told me he’s worried about his brother. Apparently Saeran hasn’t been sleeping well for the past week. He’s been having nightmares.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed... I love Jaehee


	20. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes sleepless Seven and Saeran needing MC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a major turning point in the relationship between Saeran and MC

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" you hiss, each instance of the word leaving your mouth punctured with a slap to the steering wheel as you drive, effortlessly weaving through the smattering of cars on the roads at such an early hour.  
You had practically sprinted out of the cafe at Jaehee's last words, left her standing there speechless as you jumped in your car, screeched out of the parking space, tyres spinning out in protest before gaining ground, the sound of the engine sending a deep, reverberating thrum through the entire vehicle. 

You're only a few minutes away from the apartment, mind racing so fast you resort to speaking aloud in an effort to give some order to your jumbled thoughts.  
"One week... three, four... five. Five days. He called me five days ago and I ignored him. That means Saeran started having nightmares five days ago. Five whole days. Five whole days and I ignored him. Idiot!"  
You come to a screeching halt, the sudden stop causing you to fly forward before the seatbelt restrains you, slams you forcefully back into the plush leather of the seat and stay there a while, arms stretched taunt, fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel as you fight to regain your breath.  
It isn't long before you give up, chest tight as you yank the seat belt off, throw the door open before slamming it shut behind you, jog towards the front door. You don't have your dictionary with you, can't be bothered to rummage through your bag for your phone, instead choose to rap your knuckles loudly against the front door.  
"Seven? Saeran? It's MC!"  
You're suddenly glad for the absence of close neighbours before resuming your knocking, this time slamming the palm of your hand impatiently against the thick wood.  
The door flies open and you retract your hand, barely aware of the stinging as you come face to face with Seven.

He looks horrible.  
Dark bags, darker than yours, sit below his eyes, dulling the bright amber of his irises. He’s paler than usual, his vibrant, red hair contrasting sharply against his pallor and giving him the look of someone gravely ill. He stands there, blinking rapidly, hoping the lack of sleep coupled with sheer exhaustion hasn’t caused his mind to crack, for it to conjure the image of you from thin air. He raises a hand, places it lightly on your arm before squeezing, reassuring himself of the fact that you’re really, truly here, he hasn’t thought you up.  
“MC-,” he croaks, voice cracking before he stops, licks his dry lips before trying again. “You came.” He sounds impossibly tired, voice still hoarse, almost as if he hasn’t used it in a while, forgotten how to speak.  
You offer him a shaky smile, fight to push down the guilt rising up your throat like bile before speaking. “Where is he?” you whisper, still standing at the doorway.  
“On the sofa,” Seven whispers back, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder before looking back at you.  
“I’ve got this. You… you should get some rest.”  
“A-are you sure?” he stutters, the expression on his face a mix between relief at the thought of a rest and guilt at leaving Saeran.  
“Yes,” you nod, reassure him with another smile and he drops his hand from where it rests on your arm, moves closer before leaning down into you and gently placing his chin on your shoulder.  
“Thanks, MC,” he mutters, his words slightly slurred from drowsiness. “I just… I wanted to say sorry. Sorry for being such an idiot I just… I’m-“  
“Shhh,” you say quickly, raise a hand to smooth it over his hair and you feel him relax against you, “we can talk about this some other time. I want you to get some rest now, ok?”  
He removes his head from your shoulder, looks down at you as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.  
“Ok, boss,” he says playfully and you find yourself smile along with him before pushing him gently and stepping into the hallway.  
You follow him silently until he reaches the stairs, takes them two at a time before disappearing around the corner to his room.

It’s then that you notice a dark figure to your right and turn to find Saeran huddled on the sofa, knees drawn up to his chest and face buried into them, arms wrapped around his legs, fingers intertwined.  
The room is dark save for the light of a desk lamp somewhere bathing the space in a soft orange hue, the colour barely reaching where Saeran sits.  
You’re unsure of what to do, resort to taking a seat on the edge of the sofa, place your bag next to your feet before chancing a glance over at him. He’s moving slightly, his frame rising from the movement of his chest. You shift to the side slowly, try to gauge whether he’s sleeping or not when he suddenly moves, drops his arms from around himself and looks you dead in the eye.  
“Oh!” you slap a hand over your mouth, the other clutched to your chest, heart beating erratically.  
“You scared the shit out of me,” you say with a huff of breath, lean back until you’re pressed against the cool surface of the sofa.  
“Sorry,” he mumbles and you shake your head slightly, dismiss the apology.  
“Can’t sleep?” you probe, position yourself so that you’re facing him, legs tucked underneath you.  
“I could ask you the same question,” he shoots back and you drop your head, raise a hand before gently running the fingers over the delicate skin underneath your eyes.  
“I guess,” you murmur softly, look back up at him with the ghost of a smile on your face and he hesitates, eyes flickering to your lips before he looks away, focuses his attention on a space just to the left of your head.  
“I’ve been having nightmares. Just like you said I would.” You feel a pang in your chest at his words, bite your bottom lip to keep from saying anything, acutely aware of the fact that he’s speaking to you. Trusts you enough to do so.  
“They started a week ago. Three nights in a row. I woke up the third night with my hands around Saeyoung’s neck. I,” he pauses, slowly stretches out his legs, “I haven’t slept since.”  
“Not even in the day?” you ask and he shakes his head sharply.  
“I’m scared. Of hurting him.”  
“I’m here to help, Saeran. If you ever need me.”

 _‘I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything.’_  
The words are spoken so clearly in his mind that for a second he freezes, unsure if he’s said them aloud but you haven’t reacted. You’re still waiting for a response, face cast in shadow as you look at him.  
“You can’t help me,” he answers gruffly, turns away and you breathe harshly through your nose. You pushed him too far, demanded more than he could offer and now he’d ignore you, wouldn’t relax until you left.  
“Tell me to go and I will,” you say, suddenly angry with him, yourself, everything about the situation.  
“What?” he turns back to face you, a trickle of dread creeping up his spine at your words, at your expression, eyes glistening in the dim light.  
“Tell me you don’t need my help, that you never have,” your voice starts to rise, “Tell me I’ve been wasting your time. My time. Tell me and I’ll go.”  
“MC, I-“  
“Tell me!”  
“No!” he springs up, his shout ringing through the room and you’re too stunned to speak, almost scared as he looms above you, chest rising and falling heavily, fingers curled into fists.  
“Fine,” you spit, move to grab your bag and leave, blood boiling and fingers shaking.

He notices you making to get up, to leave and the dread creeps over him faster, grips his heart in its icy cold hold, the shadows in the room looming larger than ever before and his chest ceases up, lips parted as he tries to breathe in but he can’t, he can’t breathe and his eyes widen in fear. He can see you stand in slow motion, the anger in your face showing in the draw of your brows, lips pulled into a thin line.  
You’re leaving and he needs you to stay with him, he needs you to stay because he can’t do this without you.  
You’re finally up, bag slung over your shoulder and you turn away from him, make to leave when you feel something grab your hand.  
“Stay.” The word comes out halfway between a gasp and a question, the desperation in that one syllable taking you off guard and you turn to find your hand gripped in Saeran’s, his eyes wide with fear.  
“Please?” he’s shaking, his entire body is shaking and you pull your hand away briefly before slipping your palm over his, squeezing his hand reassuringly, running your thumb over his.  
“As long as you need me Saeran,” you begin softly, noticing how cold he feels, “I’m not going anywhere.”  
The tightness in his chest eases up and he takes in a shuddering breath, rapidly blinks away the tears threatening to spill down his face.  
You’re not leaving him.  
You’re not leaving and the realisation causes his bottom lip to tremble before he lets out a gasp, a whimper, and the next thing he knows your hand has left his, he feels empty for a second, empty before his nerve endings come to life at the feeling of your hands running up his arms, over his shoulders until they’re wrapped loosely around his neck and he stoops down, buries his face in the crook of your neck. He exhales sharply, his warm breath fluttering against your skin and you run your fingers lazily through the hair at the nape of his neck.  
His senses feel overwhelmed, the smell of you invading his nostrils, the feel of your arms around his neck causing his knees to tremble slightly.  
“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeat, lips barely brushing his ear and you feel him nod against you, his hands moving until they’re placed either side of your waist.

The two of you stay like that for a while, the sounds of Saeran inhaling sharply and sniffling decreasing until his arms are wrapped around your waist, fingers clutched tightly against the material of your blouse, almost as if to ensure you don’t leave.  
You finally release each other and he turns quickly to the side, wipes at his face before looking back at you with a small smile. You smile back, wonder why he insists on hiding when you can still feel the remnants of his tears on your skin.  
“You should get some sleep,” you say, breaking the silence and he nods before frowning.  
“Wh… where are you gonna sleep?”  
“With you,” you answer without hesitation and he dips his head, the beginnings of a blush reddening the tips of his ears and you feel your heart swell as you watch him.  
“Come here,” you say softly, take his hand in yours before leading him back to the sofa where he curls up facing you.  
It isn’t long until you feel your eyelids flutter shut, the events of the day having taken their toll on you. You’ve almost forgotten Saeran’s hand is still clutched between yours, acting as an anchor. You hear his voice from somewhere far away, imagine it’s a dream as you begin to drift off. 

“I do need you, MC. More than anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character development: Saeran being terrified of MC leaving but asking her to stay with him and admitting that he needs her


	21. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes a well rested Seven, angsty Saeran and MC feeling...something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Yoosung's birthday tomorrow! MC, Saeran and Seven all chipped in and got him a present bc he deserves to be spoilt. Also this chapter is almost the starting point of MC's internal battle with her emotions when it comes to Zen and Saeran bc she doesn't understand why she feels guilty bc she shouldn't but she does???

He jerks awake, heart hammering as his sleep addled mind tries to make sense of his surroundings.  
There’s a comforter draped over him and his brows draw inwards. Was that there last night? He sits up, shifts before he turns to the right, grips the corner of the cover to remove it completely and his arm locks in place, eyes glued to the person sleeping beside him.  
It’s you.  
He stops. Blinks once, twice before the events of the night before slowly start to trickle through to his consciousness and he finally realises why he’s looking across at your sleeping form.  
You’re still in the same position you fell asleep in, legs tucked underneath your body in the foetal position, hands drawn almost protectively to your chest. Your features are relaxed, eyelids fluttering gently as you dream, lips pushed out in a slight pout and he realises he’s holding his breath, afraid to wake you, to shatter the brief illusion of peace, to bring you back to reality.  
He leans back slowly, never takes his eyes off you until he’s lying down. He shifts, moves as carefully as he can until he’s facing you, the same position he was in last night. You haven’t stirred and he blinks again, takes a mental picture, stores it along with all the smiles you gave him, all the little moments shared between you that are so insignificant yet so important at the same time. His gaze flickers down to your hand and he realises it must’ve slipped out of his sometime during the night. It takes all he has in that moment to not reach across, run his fingers across your palm, feel the warmth of your skin against his like he did for hours until he finally drifted off into a sleepless slumber.  
He doesn’t remember how long he spent simply watching you sleep, almost in denial of the fact that you were so close to him, that your hand was actually clutched in his. That you had chosen to hold on to him as you’d drifted off.  
He doesn’t remember when he finally fell asleep either. He’d actually managed to sleep, to get through the entire night without screaming himself awake. 

He hadn’t dreamt at all.

“What are you doing to me?” he murmurs, half hoping that you’ll wake up, answer his question like it’s the easiest things in the world.

He stays like that for a while, the darkness in the room slowly dissipating, allowing objects to come into focus as everything gradually lightens.  
A sudden shuffling from the kitchen causes him to sit up again, thoughts scattered as he scrabbles out between the covers, shoves a hand between a cushion and the side of the sofa until he grasps what he needs, hastily stuffs it into the pocket of his pyjama trousers before standing.  
He looks over his shoulder briefly, ensures you’re still sleeping before leaving the room, his feet guiding him towards the kitchen.  
Saeyoung is sitting on the counter, legs swinging as he absentmindedly tips honey buddha chips straight from the bag into his mouth, stray crumbs catching in his red t-shirt as he scrolls through his phone. He looks up as Saeran enters, amber eyes locking onto amber eyes and Saeran turns away, fingers tightening their grip on the contacts case in his pocket.  
“Sleep well?” his brother enquires and he nods briskly, walks towards the fridge.  
“Yeah. You?”  
“Like a baby,” Saeyoung groans, stretches before sliding down from the counter.  
“How’s MC?”  
Saeran stops, hand gripping the door of the fridge before he yanks it open. “Still sleeping.”

That uncomfortable silence again. It fills the space between him and his brother, places intense pressure on his eardrums until he can’t take it anymore, turns quickly before brushing past Saeyoung and towards the bathroom.

 

**********  
You groan lightly, eyes opening slowly as you wake. There’s a crick in your neck and massage it with the fingers of your right hand as you slowly sit up. Saeran is gone, the space where he slept empty except for the ruffled sheets left in his wake. You groan again, mind already running at full speed, working to try and comprehend the events of last night but you shut the thoughts out defiantly. You pull the covers off, bare feet slapping lightly against the wooden floorboards as you make your way towards the kitchen.  
“MC!” Seven is already there, a can of his favourite fizzy drink raised to his lips. An empty one is sitting on the counter behind him and you shake your head in disbelief.  
“Morning, Seven,” you mumble, on autopilot as you head towards the cupboards. It takes a bit of rummaging around before you find the metal can of coffee granules you left and you grab it, make a beeline towards the kettle before filling it up.  
“Sleep well?” he quips, makes his way over to you and you turn to face him.  
“Except for the crick in my neck, yeah. How about you?”  
He smiles, eyes crinkling before he throws his arms around your neck. You squeal in surprise, stumble backwards but he holds you up, tilts you from side to side and you laugh, the sound falling freely from your lips.  
“I’ll take that you slept amazingly well?” you ask with a smile and he pulls back.  
“You’re a lifesaver, MC.”  
“My pleasure,” you tell him and he releases you.  
“I forgot to ask, Yoosung’s present. Will it arrive on time?”  
“It’ll be on his doorstep by noon tomorrow,” you inform him and he grins, punches the air with his fist and you can’t help but laugh again.  
“I can’t wait to see his reaction! He’s gonna be so happy! I’m gonna go on the messenger and tease him!” He runs out of the room, phone clutched in his hand and you shake your head again, shout after his retreating figure.  
“Leave the poor kid alone!”  
“Never!”

 

**********  
You finish your coffee in the empty kitchen, quickly rinse the mug under the tap before leaving the room. You almost collide with Saeran entering the kitchen, the sudden sight of him catching you off guard. You expect him to shove you away again, wait for the moment to come but his eyes widen, hands shooting out to grab you by the arms and keep you steady.  
“Sorry,” he mumbles quickly, retracts his hands, one of them going to the nape of his neck.  
“It’s ok,” you say, flash him a quick, reassuring smile and he freezes, stares at you for a while before ducking his head.  
“How’d you sleep?” you ask quietly and he looks back up at you, chews on his bottom lip.  
“Well. No nightmares.”  
“Good,” you breathe with relief, “I’m glad.”  
_‘He’s acting strange.’_ The thought pops up into your head and you can’t ignore it. He is acting strange. You don’t have time to dwell on it as you glance at your wristwatch.  
“I should go,” you say hurriedly, gesture to the front door and he moves aside for you.  
“See you later, Saeran,” you say across your shoulder, quickly step back into the living room before grabbing your bag and heading out of the apartment. 

It isn’t until you’re back home that you check your phone. There are a couple of messages, one missed chat and a missed call from Zen. You press a button, call him back as you head up the stairs to your room.  
“Babe!” he sounds relieved, breathing heavy as he answers the call.  
“Hey,” you answer with an easy smile, the familiar sound of his voice washing over you.  
“I’ve missed you,” he says without hesitation and your stomach flips, the smile on your face spreading,  
“I’ve missed you too.”  
“Where’ve you been?”  
_‘With Saeran.’_  
“Just, working.”  
“Last night too?”  
“Yeah. I was-“  
_‘With Saeran. I was sleeping with Saeran.’_  
“- w-, with a client.”  
“When can I book some time with you?” he asks teasingly and you swallow, throat suddenly dry.  
“Tonight. After work… if you want.”  
“Of course I want to see you, babe.” He sounds worried.  
“I’m running late for work. See you later.”  
You quickly cancel the call before he can even reply.  
You don’t realise that you’ve stopped walking, back pressed against the wall of the staircase. You can’t stop the memories, your mind taking advantage of the crack in your armour.

_Zen, asking you to stay, his voice thick with sleep but confident._  
_Saeran, begging you to stay, almost choking on the plea._  
_Zen’s kisses cooling against your neck._  
_Saeran’s tears against your skin, dampening the collar of your blouse._  
_Zen that night on the rooftop. “You have no idea what you do to me.”_  
_Saeran this morning. “What are you doing to me?”_

You suddenly feel sick at the thought of telling Zen where you were last night, can almost hear his response. _“I didn’t know therapists slept with their clients."_


	22. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes MC X Zen being cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some much needed fluff but this is me so it could all change during the last sentence or something

Again, Zen opens the door before you can knock and you wonder if he always waits for you like this. You stand at the doorway for a minute, simply take him in. It feels like you haven't seen him in ages, the familiar pull you feel whenever you're near him almost impossible to resist. His eyes light up when he sees you, an easy smile gracing his features and you step forward at the same moment he moves towards you.  
Your face hits his chest first, the soft material of his t-shirt unable to hide the firmness underneath and you turn your head, bury your face against him, his comforting scent enveloping your senses. He moves to wrap his arms around you, draws you close.  
"Hey," he says simply, the vibrations of his voice running through you and you shift, grasp his shirt even tighter.  
"Hey," you reply, voice small and weak. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, fight the rising lump in your throat.  
"How was work?" he asks and you shake your head slightly before reluctantly pulling away and looking up at him.  
"Can we just..." you hesitate, bite down on your lip, unsure of how to voice your opinion. He looks down at you intently, waits patiently before he removes an arm from around your waist, brings the hand up to your face before raising his thumb and gently placing it in the indentation below your bottom lip. He pulls down, applies a bit of pressure until you get the hint, release your lip. He keeps pulling, waits until your lips are slightly parted before he ducks down, brushes his against yours. You instantly relax, shoulders falling as you sigh, press your lips against his before parting them even further and he responds in kind, drops his hand back to your waist, at the same time presses his tongue into your mouth.  
The kiss is slow, almost torturous as your lips move against each other, unmistakable hints of need showing in the way you cling to him, in the way his hands roam over your waist, stop momentarily to grip your sides firmly.  
You grudgingly pull away for air, eyelids fluttering slightly and he smiles down at you, brushes the pad of his thumb lightly across your still parted lips.  
“Ok,” he whispers, answers your unfinished question and you duck back down, elicit a rumbling chuckle from him as you burrow your face back into his chest in silent thanks. 

He releases you, runs a large hand down your arm before gripping your hand between his, silently leads you towards the living room. You notice a script abandoned on the sofa as you approach it and look over at him, mouth falling open.  
“I was just looking over it,” he clarifies, “you didn’t interrupt me.” You give a small nod in understanding and he chuckles again, steps in front of you before cupping your face between his hands, forcing you to look up at him. His brows are drawn together, lips pulled into a tight line. He’s worried.  
“What’s wrong, hmm?” he asks quietly, eyes scanning your features as if hoping to find the answers scrawled across them. “Where’s my MC?”  
“She’s here,” you answer, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “she’s just tired.”  
“Of me?” He asks, a playful glimmer in his eyes.  
“Never,” you murmur, eyes flickering to his lips before you step closer, rise on the tips of your toes and he leans down, hands dropping from your face before he meets you halfway.  
You love the feeling of his lips against yours, the way he seems to always be a step ahead, knows exactly how to push your buttons. He finally breaks away, brings his hand back up to your face, slips his fingers into your hair.  
“I’ve missed you,” he breathes, voice gruff with emotion and you lean into his hand, a blissful smile blooming across your face.  
“I’ve missed you too, lovely Zen.” His eyes widen in shock before he groans, pulls you closer, presses his lips to your forehead.  
“Don’t,” his voice is tight and you grin, widen your eyes innocently.  
“Don’t what?”  
“Do that.”  
“Do what, lovely Zen?”  
“MC…!” You burst out laughing, place your hands over his to steady yourself and he gazes at you in pure adoration, the look so intense that it cuts you off abruptly. 

“You should get back to your script,” you find yourself whisper, the way he’s looking at you making you hyper aware of how close he is, the feel of his skin against yours heightening your senses.  
“I should,” he murmurs, makes no attempt to move and you laugh breezily, pull away from him before placing your hands firmly against his chest, push him towards the sofa. He smiles, takes the hint, steps backwards before grabbing your hand at the last second, pulls you down with him.  
“Zen!” you squeal in protest, can almost picture the grin on his face as he pulls you against him, your back pressed flush against his chest.  
“Shhh,” he chastens playfully, “I’m busy.”  
You roll your eyes, smile as you relax into him, the sounds of pages turning occasionally and the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back lulling you into an almost dream like state. 

**********  
Your eyelids flutter open and you shift slightly, unsure of whether you fell asleep or not. You’re still lying on the sofa, legs tangled with Zen’s. You’re leaning against his chest, absentmindedly tracing circles over the thin material of his shirt with your fingertip. You probably didn’t fall asleep, you think, probably just fell into a daydream.  
One of his arms is wrapped loosely around your waist, the other gripping the script as he scans it. You can't see his face, don't want to move and disturb the peacefulness of the moment but you can imagine the look of steely concentration on his features, eyebrows drawn together as he reads.  
You sigh, drop the hand tracing patterns before lowering your head completely onto his chest and nuzzling your face against him. You feel him stir slightly, the arm around your waist tightening its grip momentarily before the pressure dissipates and he goes back to the script. You stay like that for a while, quietly bathe in his warmth and presence and company, simply glad to be with him after so long. 

A sudden rustle of paper rouses you again and you feel Zen’s hold on you tighten, his other arm snaking around your waist until he’s completely wrapped around you.  
“I’m done,” he states with a relieved sigh and you hum in reply, place your hands over his.  
“What would you li-“ his sentence is cut short by a sharp knock at the door and you sit up, Zen’s arms falling from around you as he manoeuvres himself until he’s standing.  
“Must be the food,” he states, quickly walks over to the door before opening it.  
You watch him chat to the person on the other side, posture relaxed as he reaches for his wallet, pays before taking the bags handed to him, offers the person a quick smile and a bow before he shuts the door, makes his way back towards you.  
“Figured you might be hungry,” he explains before placing the bags on the floor and reaching a hand out towards you.  
You stand, make your way towards him and he holds you against him, places a hand at the small of your back before drawing you close.  
“I am,” you tell him, brush a soft kiss over his cheek, “thank you.”  
The both of you sink to the floor, legs crossed as you sit opposite each other. He removes bowls from the bag silently, follows them up with several side dishes, wooden chopsticks and napkins before handing you a portion, his fingers lingering against yours for longer than necessary.  
“Black bean noodles!” you exclaim, eyes wide with excitement and he looks over at you with that same look, his gaze so intense you duck your head, focus on the bowl in your hands.  
You eat in silence, both of you too preoccupied with the food in front of you to talk. You lift your head, shoot Zen a quick glance only to find him already looking at you, chopsticks raised to his mouth.  
“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.  
"You have..." his sentence trails off, hand rising to point a finger at your face.  
"Here," he places his bowl down, leans towards you and you tilt your head up, wait for him to wipe the sauce off your face. He moves quickly, leans closer before placing his lips gently against the corner of your mouth, kisses it away instead.  
“Very smooth,” you smile with a roll of your eyes and he laughs in a short exhale, eyes gleaming. 

“What do you want to do now?” he asks, trails his gaze over your face before locking his eyes back on yours.  
“Sleep,” you reply quietly, place a hand over the one he has raised to your face. “With you. If that’s ok.”  
“By sleep, you mean…?” he tilts his head to the side, lips pressed together tightly to fight the urge to laugh and you make an exaggerated noise of disgust, push him away before standing.  
“You’re lucky I like you,” you smile, shake your head before grabbing your bag and heading towards the bathroom. 

**********  
You walk into the bedroom to find him sitting up, his back resting against the headboard. The sheets are pulled up to his waist, torso bare and silver hair flowing down his shoulders. He puts his phone down on the bedside cupboard when he notices you walk in, eyes darting over your figure before he swallows, settles on looking at your face as you smile, make your way over to the empty side of the bed before slipping in beside him. He lays down on his back, looks over at you before glancing away quickly, eyes glued to the ceiling. You can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face, find his reaction to you in his bed endearing. It’s not like you haven’t been here before.  
You shuffle closer, curl up against his chest and he automatically brings his arm up and around your midriff, pulls you tight against him.  
“How was your day?” you ask, sleep already creeping into your voice.  
“Practise finished early so that was good,” he begins, the sound of his voice synchronised with the movement of his chest, his warm skin pressed against your cheek.  
“Mmm,” you mumble, eyes already slipping shut.  
He carries on talking, the sound of his voice lulling you to sleep. 

**********  
You wake to find Zen sitting up, his back to you as he types on his phone. You smile blissfully, sit up before moving closer to him and placing a kiss on his bare skin.  
“Mmm, morning MC.” He turns around, gifts you with his sleep dazed face and you find yourself staring, unable to look away.  
“Like what you see?”  
“Very much,” you reply without hesitation and he leans down, captures your lips between his in a deep kiss.  
“Do you think the guys will like it too?”  
“Huh?”  
“My selfie. I posted it on Yoosung’s birthday chatroom. Look.” He raises his phone up for you to see. He looks beautiful, hair falling across his face, one side of his profile seemingly glowing from the sunlight filtering through the blinds. You lean closer, notice something behind him.  
“Zen,” your voice is deathly quiet, “did, did you upload this selfie somewhere else?”  
“Not yet,” he answers breezily, “I was thinking of putting it up on my Tripster accou-“  
“No!” He jumps from the force of your disagreement, confusion warping his features.  
“Why? Does it look bad?”  
“Zen, look!” you sit up, rise on your knees before pointing at the figure behind him in the picture.

It’s you. The sheets are pulled up to your chest, your sleeping face clear in the picture, hair spread around your head like a halo.  
“Oh, my god.” All the colour has drained out of Zen’s face, crimson eyes wide as he stares at you, unsure of how you’ll react.  
Just then, the notifications on the chatroom blow up, Zen’s phone chiming repeatedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust Zen to steal the limelight. Also, he's terrified MC is gonna kill him and honestly... she contemplated it. Now all they have to do is face the RFA


	23. Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes worried Zen, confused MC and lots of kissing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this chapter is short, it kind of shows how MC feels about their relationship going public (even if it is just within the RFA) and how this might differ from how Zen feels

You fall back onto the mattress, hair fanning out across the pillows at the same time you pull the sheets up over your head, an arm across your face and eyes screwed shut, providing extra layers of security against Zen's imminent probing.

"MC?" his voice finally breaks the silence in the room. He sounds hesitant, more unsure than you've ever heard him but you ignore his words, refuse to move.  
"Babe?" another long stretch of silence before you feel the bed dip against his weight as he moves, gently pulls the covers off your face.  
"Are you mad?"  
You don't reply, simply listen to his breathing as he waits for you to speak, the heat radiating off of him palpable.  
"Babe, please say something."  
Again, he’s met by silence.  
"MC?" he waits a few seconds before you feel his fingers around your wrist. He pulls against your hand gently, finds he isn't being met with any resistance. It gives him the confidence to try again, each tug as cautious as the last until you pull your hand away from his, place it on your chest.  
You hear him move closer, wonder how he'll get you to open your eyes until you feel warm breath against your ear.  
"I'm sorry." Goosebumps ripple across your skin at the sensation, the sound of his voice against your ear almost causing your eyes to fly open.  
"I'm really," his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "really sorry." You take a shaky inhale of breath, hope he doesn't notice the effect he's having on you.  
"I shouldn't have posted that selfie without checking with you first." His lips have found a trail down to your jaw and he presses a feather light kiss against it, the action so small it leaves you wanting more.  
"I was stupid." He moves upwards, rests his lips against your left temple.  
"And reckless." His lips leave a path of heat down your face, his mouth against the slope of your cheek before he presses a firm kiss against it, the unexpected move causing your lips to part in surprise.  
"Irresponsible." His nose brushes against yours before he moves down and he’s so close. One small jolt, a turn of your head and he'll have you.  
"Forgive me?" he whispers the words against your lips and you sigh before you surge forward, press your mouth against his in answer.  
You can feel him smile against you as you drape your arms across his shoulders. He slips his hands underneath you, effortlessly lifts you off the bed and into his lap, lips moving against each other in short, heated bursts.  
You finally break away from him, gaze up into his face to find him looking down at you, eyes filled with worry. 

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, drop your arms from around his neck before placing them on his bare chest.  
“You’re not?” he sounds relieved, the tightness in his expression fading as he watches you, presses his palm flat against the small of your back.  
“We would’ve told them eventually,” you muse, almost talking to yourself.  
“We would’ve,” he agrees, the tension left on his brows and the corners of his mouth dissolving with every word out of your mouth, the pads of your fingers tracing patterns on his warm skin further relaxing him.  
“They’ll understand, right?” You stop tracing patterns, drop your hands into your lap, eyes wide as you stare up at him.  
It’s one of the few rare moments he’s seen you look so vulnerable, the hope in your gaze causing his heart to swell. He raises his hands, cups your face before tilting your head up gently.  
“Of course they will.”  
You sigh again, squeeze your eyes shut tight before opening them.  
“I guess the cat’s out the bag.”  
He winches, grasps your face a little tighter. “Please don’t say that word in my house.”

You find yourself smiling, stretch up before brushing your lips against his and he hums in approval, drops his hands to your waist before deepening the kiss. You run your hands up over his torso, marvel in the curve and dip of every muscle before your fingers find themselves in his hair. You thread them through the silky strands, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp and he groans against your lips, his mouth falling open.  
It doesn’t take long for you to realise Zen really likes having his hair played with. You slip the observation into the corner of your mind at the same time your tongue finds his, plan to use it when the situation calls for it. You lean into him, press yourself against his chest and he breaks away from you with a sharp hiss, eyes clouded with desire.  
“What’s this for, huh?” his voice is husky, breathing shallow.  
“Can’t I just want you?” you murmur, lean down to speak the words against his skin and he falls back completely, gives you the chance to straddle him. A grin spreads over your face at seeing him so taken aback but the victory is short lived. 

You let him take control, all thoughts of your bubble bursting blown away as he grasps your thighs, expertly flips you over until he’s hovering over you, his mouth at your neck. 

It isn’t just you and him anymore. 

It’s you and him and the RFA. They’ll now have a glimpse into your relationship, comment on it. Have opinions. You hate the thought of it, can’t stand the idea of others intruding. You don’t understand the feeling, can’t pinpoint whether it’s jealousy or not but Zen’s fingers at the buttons of your night shirt distract you and you’re grateful. Thankful for a distraction like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Zen's birthday soon so guess what that means! (their first interaction with the rest of the RFA as a couple as well as MC going all out and making sure he has the best day ever)


	24. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes MC x Zen, the RFA and surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a million years late. I've had a pretty rough couple of weeks and am kinda, sorta getting through it. I hope you guys enjoy the longest chapter of this fic so far, nearly 6,500 words that will pick up the pace of the story and run with it in future chapters

You wait until Zen’s in the shower before heading quickly towards the front door, car keys in hand. You know he won’t come into the kitchen once he’s ready for bed, that he’d rather go straight to sleep, chat to you about his day before dozing off. It’s his birthday tomorrow and you feel a tingle of excitement run through you at the fact. You had prepared his presents weeks in advance, wrapped up plans for a party with the RFA members the week before. You’re grateful for planning ahead, stomach rolling at the thought of talking to the others after the events that had occurred a few days before.  
You’d pointedly ignored the particular chat, had chosen to send Yoosung a birthday text instead. He had replied quickly, thanked you for his present without mentioning anything else. You know however, know that both you and Zen will have to face them tomorrow and the very idea sends a shudder down your spine.  
It isn’t long before you lug various bags and equipment back into the apartment, close the door quietly behind you before heading back into the kitchen. The ingredients are already prepared, packed into containers ready to be cooked. You deftly plug in the slow cooker, wash your hands before picking up the seasoned meat and placing it into the machine. You wash your hands again, put everything else into the fridge, close the door just as Zen exits the bathroom. 

“Babe?” he calls out and you make your way out of the kitchen towards the sound of his voice. He’s standing in the hallway, towel wrapped around his midriff. Stray droplets of water roll down his exposed chest, hair still damp and sticking to his face and neck.  
“I thought I heard the front door open,” he says with a small furrow of brows and you bob your head, raise the bag in your hand.  
“I forgot my bag in the car.” He nods in understanding before you move past him towards the bathroom.  
**********  
You take a moment to admire his sleeping form, appreciate the feeling of waking up before him. He’s facing you, features relaxed and peaceful. You notice the little details, the way his eyelashes brush against his skin, silken strands of hair like molten silver in the embers of the rising sun. A lump forms in your throat, eyes prickle with unexpected tears and you blink them away, momentarily taken aback. You really want to touch him, to brush your fingers lightly across his face, feel him lean into you, watch as the corners of his lips turn up. But you can’t, know that if you do he’ll probably wake up and ruin the surprise. You reluctantly pull the covers away, the cool air causing you to shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. The pull is already there, causes you to take one look back as you exit the room.  
You miss him already.  
**********  
You return a while later to find him flat on his back, an arm under his head as he sleeps. You’re washed and dressed, the smell of cooking wafting through the apartment. You don’t remember ever smelling home cooked food in Zen’s home, can’t recall a time where he didn’t eat out, order in or simply skip meals and it sends a pang through you. You find yourself hoping to be with him long enough to cook for him, for the both of you to cook together, eat together, simply be together.  
An amused smile spreads across your face and you wonder what’s up with you, don’t fully understand what you’re feeling or why.  
The pull returns and you can’t deny yourself any longer, find yourself crawling onto the bed before situating yourself on top of him, legs either side of his thighs. The pressure rouses him and he moans drowsily before slipping his arm out from beneath his head. His eyelids pull up, close again before he fights the cloud of sleep enveloping him, blinks rapidly to find you over him, a small smile on your lips.  
“Happy birthday, lovely Zen,” you say in a singsong voice and he groans playfully, a wide grin lighting up his features.  
“This is the best birthday present ever,” he mumbles, the sound of his voice thick and low with sleep sending a thrill through you.  
“What is?” you ask, humour him with a tilt of your head.  
“You.” There’s no mistaking the truth in his voice, in the way that one simple word rings through the room, his eyes almost seeming to look into your soul as he utters it.  
You blink, taken aback for the second time that morning before you answer in the only way you see fit, lean down into him before pressing your lips against his. Your hair fans out, envelopes the two of you in a curtain of your own world and you’d do anything to stay like that forever, his lips gliding against yours in perfect synchronisation.  
You pour all you have into that one kiss, hope he can tell how you feel about him in the way you cling to him just a fraction longer, the way your lips linger against his long after you’ve broken apart, your warm breath mingling with his.  
All too soon you pull away from him, swing your leg up and over before standing.  
He seems to have lost his ability to speak, lips parted as he looks up at you. That, coupled with the tingling in your sides from the way he gripped you, held you close to him makes you dip your head, try to fight the smile you feel start to creep across your face. You finally compose yourself, turn away from him.  
“You should get washed,” you say from across your shoulder, already making your way out of the room, “I’ll see you in the kitchen.” 

He walks in as you’re setting the last plate down on the small dining table. You turn around, hands at the straps of your apron to find him rooted to the spot, mouth hanging open. You part your lips to speak before he barrels into you, wraps his arms tightly around you and bundles you into his chest. You chuckle, sink your face into his shirt before glancing up at him.  
“I made you breakfast.”  
“I-I can tell.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Is this all for me?”  
“It’s your birthday. Of course it’s all for you.”  
“Babe…” he grasps your face between his hands before peppering it in kisses. You squeal, bring your hands up to stop him but he persists. You give up, can only giggle as every inch of your face and neck are plastered in kisses. He finally stops, breaks away from you breathlessly.  
“You’re amazing, MC. You know that right?”  
“Mmm,” you reply, stretch up on your toes before rubbing your nose gently against his. He laughs in an exhale of breath, presses his forehead flush to yours.  
“What did I do to deserve you?”  
“You can ponder that over breakfast,” you tell him, break the embrace before taking his hand and guiding him towards a chair. You move around the table to sit across from him, watch as he scans all the different dishes before biting his lip and looking up at you, a silent plea for help.  
“Seaweed soup for the birthday boy,” you smile and his eyes light up as he watches you ladle generous amounts of seaweed soup and beef into a bowl. You prepare your own bowl, silently watch as he dips a spoon into the contents, blows on it once before placing it into his mouth. The spoon drops into the bowl with a clang as he leans backwards, eyes closed blissfully.  
“That…” he pauses dramatically, peaks out of one eye to see if you’re watching before he falls back again, “is the best seaweed soup I’ve ever tasted.”  
A bubble of laughter passes your lips at his words and he gazes at you with that look of his, the one that leaves you feeling exposed, more vulnerable then you’ve ever been. You don’t look away however, hold his gaze as you laugh and he reaches across the table, brushes his thumb across your lips.  
“You should do that more,” he murmurs, eyes flickering over your features before locking on yours. “You should laugh more.” You catch his hand in yours, trail your fingers over it before pulling it away from your mouth.  
“I’ll try,” you breathe, seal the promise with a kiss to his thumb and he pulls back his hand, places it on his chest. Right above his heart. 

The two of you carry on eating, Zen’s reactions to each new dish more dramatic and exuberant than the last. It ends with him jumping onto his seat after a bite of the last one, his flying foot knocking empty plates to the ground. He stops, freezes before glancing over at you and you can’t help but laugh, marvel at the way he relaxes, grins, his eyes crinkling at the sides before the two of you bend down, gather the empty plates, steal kisses under the table.  
He helps you wash up, models the pink, elbow length rubber gloves as you take imaginary pictures and he poses for you. He uses more washing liquid then is necessary, the sink overflowing with bubbles. He laughs when you jump back, ask him if he’ll take responsibility if your clothes get soiled and he answers yes without hesitation, peels of his gloves before pinning you to the counter, slips a hand under your blouse at the same time his tongue passes your lips.  
You scold him for never eating, fill his fridge with leftovers, threaten him if he doesn’t finish them and he smirks, asks what his punishment will be, takes things a lot more seriously when you lean into his ear, whisper words such as no more nights over, no drunken talks at two in the morning, no calling him just to hear his voice.  
He helps you carry your various cooking equipment back to the car, has a mini argument about who carries what, why doesn’t he just carry everything it would be so much easier. He carries _you_ to the car, slings you over his shoulder effortlessly and you let him, gasp in surprise when he playfully smacks your ass. 

He places you down gently, looks around quickly before pressing his lips against yours and running to his side of the car before getting in. You shake your head, unable to stop smiling before getting in after him.  
“It’s strange.” You turn to find him staring at his phone, brows drawn together as he logs into the messenger.  
“What is?”  
“I haven’t gotten any prank calls, texts… nothing. Not even at the house. I’d usually have had a dozen by now.”  
“Oh,” you answer simply, turn away from him to put on your seatbelt.  
“MC…” he sounds suspicious and you adjust the seatbelt, suddenly very interested in it.  
“Yeah?”  
“You wouldn’t have anything to do with this would you?”  
“I have no idea what you mean?” it comes out as a question and you sigh before looking over at him. “I might have told Seven to leave you alone this year,” you mumble.  
“And he did? How?” He sounds incredulous, eyebrows raised so far they’ve almost disappeared into his hair.  
“I bought him a new cover for one of his bab- one of his cars.”  
“And the house phone? How come I didn’t get any calls?”  
You duck your head, mumble the answer under your breath.  
“Babe?” Zen’s index finger finds its way under your chin, gently tilts your head up until you’re looking up at him.  
“I… I disconnected it.” You hold your breath, wait for his response. His eyes widen briefly before he almost howls with laughter, clutches his chest as he laughs. You simply stare at him, dumbfounded by his reaction. You didn’t know what you were expecting. It takes him a while to settle down and then he turns, shuffles close to you before resting his head on your shoulder.  
“You really are amazing,” he whispers, the vibrations of his voice thrumming through you. 

“Wait,” he sits up straight all of a sudden, stares at you, “why am I in your car? Where are we going?”  
“I thought you’d never ask!” you grin, a hand already at the dashboard. You press down until you here a click, slide the partition until you find what you’re looking for.  
“Happy birthday, Zen.” You hand him a simple, grey envelope, Zen’s name written across the front in black cursive. He takes it wordlessly, looks up at you before opening it. His eyes scan the writing before he looks up again.  
You can’t read the expression on his face, can’t figure out what he’s thinking.  
“It’s a spa,” you explain. “You get a couple of hours of relaxation. Deep tissue massages, a custom made facial, specialised beauty products. There’s a sauna and a pool. You can do whatever you want.”  
“But, there’s only one ticket. You’re not coming with me?”  
“I have work, Zen.” He places the ticket in his lap, looks down and your heart drops. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.  
You release the seatbelt, pull it off before shuffling out of your seat. You manage to manoeuvre past the gear stick until you’re as close to him as possible.  
“Zen, look at me.” He continues to stare at his lap and you feel as if your heart is going to burst. You reach out to him, cup the side of his face. “Baby, _please_ look at me.”  
His head snaps up, maybe at the rare use of a pet name, or the way your voice wavers.  
_“This is for you._ I wanted you to have some time to yourself. I’ll pick you up afterwards and later tonight it’ll just be us two. No one else. Just us.”  
He raises a hand, places it over yours. “Promise?” his voice is gruff, almost as if he’s holding something back.  
“I promise,” you whisper, place a hand on his thigh. “I’ll be all yours.”  
He looks up and you notice how dark his eyes look, his gaze making you feel hyper aware of how close he is.  
He moves quickly, grabs you and you almost fall into him, his hands at your waist holding you steady in his lap. You gasp at the sudden movement, unable to recover from the shock before his mouth is on you.  
The kiss is desperate, all tongue and teeth as his hands roam over your body, the atmosphere in the cramped conditions sending you over the edge. You feel drunk, heady with need as he breaks away, takes your lower lip between his teeth, bites down gently and you gasp, moan so loudly your head falls back. He takes the opportunity, latches his lips against the exposed skin of your neck and your eyes roll back into your head, fingers tightly gripping his shoulders as you fight to keep grounded. You hear him speak against you, the same word falling from his lips in a broken chant and somewhere in the haze of everything you pick it up. _“Mine.”_  
You moan again, roll your hips against him and he breaks away from you with a hiss that forms into an expletive halfway as you answer.  
_“All yours. I’m all yours.”_ You grasp his chin, tilt his head up before you slip your tongue past his lips and he groans, hastily shoves a hand up your blouse. You hum around the wet muscle in your mouth, revel in the sensation of his skin against yours before pressing your hips against him.  
“M-MC” he chokes out, slips his hand back out, grasps your thighs tightly as he pushes you down against him, chases the sweet friction you create as you move. The space is too small for him to buck up into you and you can feel the frustration in the way his tongue dominates yours, fingers digging painfully into your skin. 

Your phone rings and you jump, break the kiss. You don’t make to answer it, simply stay in Zen’s lap, head resting on his shoulder as you try and regain your breath. His face is pressed into your chest, fingers rubbing soothingly against your waist. Neither of you speak, too riled up to question the situation. You silently curse at the phone, hate it for breaking up what was. At the same time a tingle runs down your spine at what could’ve been. The phone is still ringing and you sigh, make to move. Zen’s hand at your waist holds you down and you stay still, try not to brush against the hardness underneath you. He manages to pull the phone out of your bag, silently passes it to you.  
“Hello?” you answer, voice sounding slightly breathless.  
“MC, where are you?” it’s Yoosung.  
“Oh, hey Yoosung. We’re- _ah!”_ Zen looks up at you, eyes wide in mock innocence. He’d placed a wet, open mouthed kiss against your neck, taking you by surprise.  
“MC? Are you ok?”  
“I’m fine. I just… what did you want?”  
“We wanted to know where you are. You’re late.”  
“Late?” You glance over at the time on the dashboard before swearing. You prise Zen’s hand away from your waist with one hand, phone still pressed to your ear as you move back to your seat.  
“I’ll be there soon. Bye!”  
You end the call, throw the phone in the back seat before telling Zen to put his seat belt on, at the same time adjust yours, start the car and drive away with a squeal of tyres.  
**********  
It’s not long before you roll up outside your driveway. You exit the car, find the front door open as you slip in.  
There are people everywhere. You’ve never seen so many people in your house. It takes a while for you to pick out Jaehee and Jumin from the crowd. They’re talking, Jaehee’s back turned to you. It’s Jumin who notices you first. He offers you a small smile, tucks a hand into the pocket of his trousers before making his way towards you. Jaehee turns, locks eyes with you before following him.  
“What took you so long?” Jumin is straight and to the point, eyes scanning you as you try to find an answer.  
He takes in your ruffled state, collar bent out of shape, lips tinged pink, stray strands of hair falling out of your low bun. You can almost feel Zen’s kisses searing your skin, bright red marks pasted across you claiming you as his.  
“Never mind,” he states, fingers fiddling at his cuff link, “you’re here now.”  
“Where are Seven and Yoosung? Where’s Saeran?” you’ve almost forgotten about him, his name added as an afterthought.  
“Seven and Yoosung are collecting fan gifts from Zen’s apartment,” says Jaehee, “Saeran will be arriving later.”  
“Everything is nearly finished. We would appreciate your insight once everyone has left.”  
“Great,” you nod, unsure of what to do. Just then Jumin’s phone rings and you motion him to your office. He nods in thanks before leaving. The next second, someone who looks like a caterer hurries over to Jaehee, the two of them exchanging words before heading to the kitchen.  
You stand there for a while, arms hanging by your sides. You had planned to unload your car, bring everything back but that doesn’t seem likely now. You knew Jumin had a habit of being meticulous, planning everything to the last detail but you definitely weren’t expecting this.  
You can only imagine what Zen would say, the way he’d roll his eyes and huff, claim Jumin was showing off his wealth. You knew he wasn’t, was only doing what he knew, what he felt was necessary to pull off a birthday party. You’re glad the party is being held at your house and not at Jumin’s penthouse, you think as you leave the room and head towards the stairs, that wouldn’t have sat right with Zen at all. 

The general hubbub of the crowd downstairs dies down as you reach the top floor, bare feet cool against the hardwood floor as you head towards your room. The bed is immaculately made, the sunshine in the horizon bathing the entire room in a beautiful pink glow. It takes all you have not to flop down right in the centre of it, to curl into a ball and let your mind drift back to the feeling of Zen’s hands on you, bring back memories that leave you simultaneously smiling and wanting him more than ever.  
Instead you turn, push open the doors of your walk-in wardrobe before stepping in. Soft, plush, carpet envelopes your feet as you walk, scan the rows of clothes, bags, shoes and accessories. You’d already chosen the outfit to wear to Zen’s birthday party and it sits there waiting for you. You walk towards it, hands already at the buttons of your blouse.  
You undress quickly, slip into a thin, grey turtleneck coupled with a leather wraparound skirt. You fix your hair, intentional strands framing your face. The outfit is finished off with a knee length cocoon coat and grey ankle strap heels that you hang off your fingers. You scoop your discarded clothes into the laundry bin, close the doors behind you before exiting the room, gently shut the door with a click.  
It’s quiet when you come downstairs, all traces of the people preparing the party gone except for the decorations they’d left behind. The entirety of your kitchen and dining room are strung with decorations, tasteful streamers and balloons in Zen’s signature colour dotting the area. The dining room table is covered in presents and you wonder if it can hold all that weight. There are wrapped gifts, baskets overflowing with complementary food, large flower bouquets, stuffed teddies and plushies.  
You step into the kitchen, find the breakfast bar and kitchen island heaving with various food and drinks. A large cake takes centre stage and you smile, hope Zen likes it. You had picked it out after an hour-long consultation with Jumin and a baker he had hired. It had seemed silly to you then, spending hours over a cake that would be devoured in minutes. You had chosen to humour him and were glad, it looked amazing.  
You make your way towards the living room, find everyone waiting for you. Seven, Yoosung and Saeran are all here and you smile at them, a genuine expression that reaches your eyes, fuelled by excitement.  
“The lady of the hour is here!” booms Seven as he stands, bounds towards you. You roll your eyes playfully before greeting him with a hug and he tightens his grip around your midriff, leans down towards your ear.  
“You look really good. I’m sure Zen would agree.”  
“Thank you, Seven,” you reply pointedly, raise an eyebrow.  
“Also…” he pulls back, arms still around you.  
“Yes?”  
“Can I borrow that jacket sometime?” You smile, nod wordlessly before he lets you go.  
“Hey, Saeran,” you offer him a small wave and he returns it along with a tight smile, pulls the sleeves of his jumper down before returning his gaze back to the ground. Your smile falters and you bite your lip, glance away before meeting Yoosung’s bright eyes.  
“MC!” he sounds so happy to see you, eyes lighting up and you find yourself smiling again, unable to be sad in his presence.  
“Hey, Yoosung,” you answer and he grins before looking over at Seven.  
“Is it time?”  
“It is young one. MC, you ready?”  
“Ready,” you answer, raise two fingers to your temple in mock salute before heading out the room.  
“See you guys later!”  
**********  
The ride back home is mostly silent, Zen’s figure in the seat next to you, eyes closed, his hand enveloping yours over the gear stick. You’d pulled into the spa retreat to find him waiting for you, arms full of various gift filled bags. He’d looked so peaceful, shoulders relaxed, a blissful smile on his face. He almost looked like he was daydreaming, head in the clouds before noticing you.  
You had stepped out of the car only to have him almost walk into you in his haste, hands cupping your face as he kissed you, whispered words of thanks between breathes before ducking down again, capturing your lips gently between his. You’d finally managed to prise him off you, taken the bags without argument before getting into the car along with him.  
You finally park in the driveway, gather the bags in one hand at the same time he steps out. He silently takes your empty hand, lets you lead him towards the front door. You wonder if he even knows where he is, smile at the thought of him being too relaxed to even be aware of his surroundings.  
The door swings open to show the house draped in darkness, every light turned off. You lead him forward, past the living room towards the back of the house.  
Lights flicker on as the two of you pass the threshold, shouts, cheers and the mini explosions of party poppers shattering the illusion of silence. Zen’s frozen to the spot, unable to make sense of the situation before Seven barrels into him, chucks a handle of paper streamers in his face.  
Suddenly he’s smiling, laughing, features lighting up as Yoosung starts singing happy birthday and everyone joins in, Jaehee entering the room balancing the cake.  
“Make a wish, Zen!” shouts Yoosung and Seven joins in, chants the word wish until Jumin speaks up from the corner, tells him to hush. 

Zen’s eyes flutter shut as he leans forward, hovers over the burning candles. Your hand is still in his and he squeezes it gently.  
Everything seems to slow down in that moment as you watch him, notice everyone in the room. Jaehee’s eye are shining as she gazes at him, arms stretched out towards him holding the cake. Jumin is leaning casually against the open doorway of the kitchen, arms folded, a small smile on his face as he watches on. Yoosung and Seven are almost in each other’s laps from sheer excitement, hands clasped as they look on with baited breath. And Saeran… you frown, unable to locate him.  
You don’t have long to dwell on his disappearance as you return Zen’s squeeze and he blows out the candles to the sound of cheers and claps. He turns to you, leans down and your heart jumps into your throat. He has that look in his eyes and you think he’s going to kiss you before he stops himself.  
“Thank you,” he says simply and you smile, lean into him. 

The party goes off without a hitch, everyone enjoying themselves. Seven manages to get cake all over himself, eats it off his hands nonchalantly. You go to cut Zen a piece but he gets there before you, smears icing on your nose before discreetly kissing it off. He looks around, ensures no one is looking before he smirks, says it tastes delicious.  
Even Jumin manages to loosen up. He removes his blazer, unbuttons the first two buttons on his shirt before lounging on a chair sipping champagne. You get time to sit with him for a while, compliment him on his choice of alcohol before Zen finds you, wraps an arm protectively around you and leads you away.  
Jaehee drinks and for the first time ever she seems relaxed, eyes shining as she tips her head back, laughs at something Zen says. He’s glad to have an audience, looks over at you to catch your attention but you stick your tongue out at him childishly, turn back to listen to Yoosung’s LOLOL exploits.  
It isn’t until you head into the kitchen that you find Saeran. He’s sitting on one of the stools, absentmindedly playing with his phone. He looks up at the sound of you entering, swallows before looking back down again. You don’t know what to say, can almost feel the tension in the room. You stand there a while before moving towards the freezer. You find an unopened pint of ice cream, dig it out before finding a spoon. You walk over towards him, silently slide the contents across the counter towards him. He stops them as they reach him, offers you a small smile as he curls his fingers around the container and you suddenly feel better, the weight on your shoulders disappearing.  
“Saeran! MC! It’s present opening time!” Seven’s voice floats through from the living room and you leave Saeran to his own devices.  
Zen decides to open the RFA members’ gifts first, promises to save the rest for later. Yoosung offers a sigh of relief while Seven mutters a thankful prayer under his breath. You stifle a laugh behind a small cough.  
The presents are thoughtful, each person giving Zen something that makes him break out his thousand-watt smile. You find yourself taking picture after picture, committed to keeping memories of the day. 

Your second present comes last and you place the large, grey box in his lap silently.  
He looks up at you, brows raised in surprise.  
"Again?"  
"Again," you answer with a smile, move back to your seat as he lifts the lid, pushes aside the folded paper until his hands brush against the unmistakable feel of cold, smooth leather. He pulls out the custom-made biker jacket, mouth open in a small 'O' as he examines the little details. The silver zippers on the underside of each arm. The shining button adorning each lapel. The grey letter ‘Z’ stitched on the left breast, the small silver chain extending from the top of the letter to the bottom.  
"Babe..." he looks over at you, crimson eyes wide and shining. In a second he’s dropped the jacket unceremoniously back into the box, pushed it aside before standing and striding purposefully towards you.  
He makes it within arm’s reach, cups your face, slips his fingers into your hair before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut, hand rising of its own accord to press your palm against his chest. He pulls away much too soon and you gaze up at him, lips tingling faintly.  
"Do you like it?"  
"I love it. Thank you."  
The moment is broken by an ear-splitting wolf whistle from Seven and Zen growls, turns towards him. 

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. There’s Seven asking Zen the secret to how he managed to get you to fall for him followed by the former running for his life. There’s food, laughter, even karaoke and before long it’s all over.  
Jaehee wishes you well, gives you a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek for Zen before leaving with Jumin who only nods to the both of you in farewell. Yoosung, who’s drunk, is half dragged, half carried to the car by Seven who’s singing happy birthday at the top of his lungs. Saeran follows them from a distance.  
You close the door after them before turning to find Zen waiting for you. He pulls you close, wraps his arms around you before spinning you in a circle, the both of you laugh uncontrollably, excitement and happiness and champagne fizzing in your veins.

**********  
It’s late and Zen’s in your room preparing for bed. You decide to use the bathroom in the hallway, take your belongings with you. You emerge after a while, call out to him from the hallway.  
“Zen? I think you forgot to open a present.”  
“I did?” The confusion in his voice is unmistakable and you bite your lip, make your way into the room.

You lean against the door frame casually, wait for him to notice your presence.  
You’re dressed in a grey, silk robe, the bottom of it barely brushing the tops of your thighs. It’s closed securely by the belt in the middle, coincidentally tied in the shape of a bow.  
He has his back to you, torso bare. His muscles flex in the dimly lit room, the lower half of his body still encased in his slim fitted jeans. He finally turns, comes face to face with you.  
His hands stop fiddling with his belt, simply hang by his sides as he stares. You notice his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, the room suddenly deathly quiet.  
“Aren’t you going to open your present?” you ask candidly and you can almost see him hold himself together, hands balled into fits. You saunter towards him until you’re only inches apart.  
You can feel the heat radiating off him, place a palm on his chest before you push him towards the bed. He staggers backwards, eyes still on you until the back of his legs connect with the bed and he falls, uses his hands to hold himself steady as he sits there, looks up at you.  
“Happy birthday, lovely Zen,” you murmur, keep your eyes fixed on him as you undo the belt, let the material ripple over your body before it pools at your feet, leaves you in front of him in his third gift of the day.  
The grey lace set leaves just enough for the imagination, leaves Zen open mouthed as you stand before him, a small smile on your face.  
“Babe…” he stops, tongue moistening his bottom lip before he raises a hand, places it just below your belly button. You sigh, already riled up as your body reacts to his touch and you push yourself against him.  
He splays his fingers, touches as much of you as he can and you sigh in pleasure, the sound shooting straight to his crotch. He grits his teeth, hardly able to speak.  
"What am I going to do with you?" His voice is barely above a whisper, pupils growing dark.  
"Whatever you want," you whisper back, "I'm all yours."

You lose track of time after that. You don't remember who initiated what, can't pinpoint who it was that finally snapped, broke the tension in the room until it had happened.  
You can sense something different, an intense urgency like never before as the two of you move against each other, a fight for power, a battle of dominance to see who could make the other reach their peak. He lavishes your body like he always does, made you wait until you can't take it anymore, beg for him in that voice that he can't refuse, the way you say his name fuelling him onwards.  
And you're different, all the emotions of the day building towards this moment where you can't get enough of him, have to feel him under your touch or against your lips or on you, anywhere as long as he's there. Your eyes prickle with tears as he holds you, the same lump in your throat as you wrap your legs around him, urge him on until he's chanting your name against your skin and then everything changes.  
The chant changes, the words against your skin change as he climaxes, stills inside you and you gasp at them rather than the sensation, bite your lip to stop from choking on a sob before you're seeing stars, vision blurring as you reach your own peak. 

And now here you are, facing him as he gazes at you adoringly, eyes full of an emotion you're scared to acknowledge.

"Do you know what I wished for?"  
"You can't say it aloud or it won't come true," you tell him, the pull you can't resist drawing you towards him.  
"But it already has. I have you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, MC. I hope you know that."  
It stings. You make to turn away at his words but he stops you, presses a hand against your cheek.  
"I wish you could see."  
"See what?"  
"How precious you are. I don't know what I'd do without you."  
"Zen-"  
"If you could open up your heart to me, it would be the best birthday present I could hope for. I don't need anything if I have you."  
_Please don't say it. Please don't say it. Please don't say-_  
"I love you, MC."  
"Zen..." his name catches in your throat, the vision of him before you blurred as your eyes brim with tears.  
"I love you."  
He moves closer, whispers the words against your skin over and over again, presses them into you with his lips, his fingers and you don't notice the tears until they're falling down your face, dripping down your chin. He kisses them away, brushes his fingers over your face but they keep coming and you can't stop them, can't do anything as your shoulders shake. He gathers you into his arms, tells you its ok, you don't have to reply, don't have to say anything at all.  
He carries on breathing the three words against your ear, hushes your shallow breathing with his confession until you're all cried out, almost limp in his arms. He carries on long after, completely and utterly unaware of the profound impact him uttering those three little words have had on you.  
**********  
_“What's love?"_  
_"Why the sudden question?"_  
_"Miss asked everyone in class."_  
_"And what did everyone say?"_  
_"Their parents and their pets. Friends. Playing with their favourite toy."_  
_"And what's love to you?"_  
_"I... I don't know."_  
_"I'll tell you. It's nothing."_  
_"Nothing?"_  
_"That's right. Love is a lie. Made up by people to make them feel as if they matter. You don't matter. Therefore, love doesn't exist for you. Does that make sense?"_  
_It doesn't but the little girl decides to nod, store the information away._  
_The woman before her knows everything after all, why would she ever question her?_

_Miss comes up to her the next day, crouches down before offering her one of her beautiful smiles._  
_"Have you found out what love means to you, MC?" she asks and the little girl nods, recites what she was told._  
_"It doesn't mean anything to me because I don't matter. So, for me, it doesn't exist."_  
_The teachers face drops and for a second the little girl freezes, afraid she's upset her._  
_"Did, I- am I wrong?"_  
_"No, no, sweetheart. You haven't done anything wrong. Nothing at all." She plasters another smile on her face, adjusts her glasses before standing and making her way to her desk._  
_The little girl smiles to herself before taking her seat, hands folded across each other on the desk, ready for class to start._

**********

Your eyes snap open and you sit up hastily. Zen is lying asleep beside you, the room dark.  
You raise a hand to your face to find it wet.  
You've been crying in your sleep, dreaming about memories from a past long buried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say, whether you guys are on easter break or at school or work, please try and find some time for yourselves. I hope you're all doing well <3


	25. Three Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes MC x Zen being more intimate, vulnerable and closer then ever before  
> Warning: includes smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks a very important turning point in MC x Zen's relationship

You wake up, somehow having managed to fall asleep again. Zen stirs as you rise, the mattress dipping slightly before it stills. You fumble around for your clothes, try to ignore how tight the skin of your face feels from crying, the burning sensation in your eyes, the sore throat. It isn't until you're fully dressed that you turn to find him awake, bleary eyed as he watches you.  
"MC? Where are you going?" his voice is soft, almost as if scared of setting you off again.  
"Out." You sound hoarse, barely audible. You hate feeling so out of control, having him see you like this.  
You suddenly want to tell him to leave, to gather his belongings and never look back. But you know that's not possible, he would never walk away so easily. You don't know how you know, you just do. Especially after last night.  
He doesn't say anything, watches you pick up your bag and walk to the door before he speaks again.  
"Do you want to talk?"  
You turn to face him, swallow with difficulty before you shake your head, hope he understands. You can't read the expression on his face, the dull throbbing in your left temple too much of a distraction. Your eyes sting and you squeeze them shut, the imprint of him sitting up, covers bunched around his waist as he watches you leave the last thing you see before your feet lead you forward. 

It isn't until you pull up at the hotel that you realise it was the first time you'd left without kissing him goodbye. 

You make it to your room, phone buzzing as you drop your bag at the foot of the bed.  
It's a message from Zen. It’s short, the simple words causing your bottom lip to tremble before you drop the phone, a hot tear sliding down your cheek. A suppressed sob breaks forth from the barrier of your lips, dies down into a whimper before another stronger one rips through, destroys any semblance of stability.  
You somehow manage to find your way to the bathroom through the curtain of tears blurring your vision, peel of your clothes before stepping into the shower.  
The hot water cascades down your body, pummels your back with steaming droplets and you press a hand against the wall to steady yourself.  
You stay like that until the tears stop mingling with the water running down your face, until the scent of Zen is all but washed away and you feel lightheaded.  
It takes all you have to drag yourself out, wrap a bath robe around you before returning to the bedroom. You walk past the phone still displaying Zen's words on the screen, sit on the edge of the bed, try not to think. 

_Zen: I meant what I said last night. I love you, MC. I always have._

You lose track of time, can’t distinguish between the moments you fall asleep, wake up crying, fingers digging painfully into your scalp as you try to stop the memories that keep flashing before your eyes, the moments where you simply stare, try not to blink.  
You must’ve picked up the phone sometime through it all, ordered some food in the hopes it would stop you feeling so lightheaded, the edges of your vision darkening.  
You must’ve but you don’t remember, can’t raise your eyelids as they begin to droop, any effort to fight them useless. 

_This dream is different. It doesn’t leave your heart racing, mind screaming at you to wake up. It takes a few seconds for your sleep addled brain to distinguish it from the memories._  
_It’s him. Here’s there, right in front of you, eyes crinkling at the corners like they always do when he smiles, half-moon crescents of delight._  
_It takes seeing him to realise the three little words he uttered were feelings you had for him, feelings you couldn’t put a name to because you’d never felt them before, were raised to believe no one would ever feel that way towards you, would never look at you the way he did and say them with such conviction._  
_All those times his very presence comforted you, his touch caused your shoulders to fall, tension melting away… you reacted that way towards him because you loved him._  
_You do love him._

Your eyes snap open, a sudden intense yearning for Zen overtakes you and you find yourself wanting to leave, to drive back as fast as possible, to find him waiting for you. If there's even the slimmest chance of him still being there, if he hasn't left...

It takes another few seconds to realise that someone’s at the door, the loud knocking finally filtering through. You rise groggily, make your way towards it. 

Zen.  
You don’t understand, can’t tell if you’re still dreaming, conjured him up from thin air.

He stands there, bag in hand, hair dishevelled. You can tell he ran from the quick rise and fall of his chest, don't question how he got here, are only glad he is. 

"Hey.” There’s a tight smile on his face, the pretence of normality there just for you.  
"Hey," you answer, catch relief wash over his features as you step forward, lean your forehead against his chest.  
You stand there for a while, find comfort in the beating of his heart, the warmth emitting from him and the way he doesn't say anything, just waits.  
_He’s really here,_ you think, how else can he feel so real? So much like the man you can’t get enough of?

Again, time passes without your knowledge. You remember snippets, Zen being there, someone at the door again, food, Zen’s arm around you, him leading you back to the bed.

Now here you are, legs stretched out before you, back against the headboard. Zen is in a similar  
position beside you. You notice him stealing glances at you from your peripheral vision but he doesn’t move, gives you the distance he thinks you need.

He couldn’t be more wrong. There’s an itch, fingers twitching until you reach out, press them lightly against the hand by his side. He jolts slightly before relaxing, smothers your hand in his, effectively puts out the itch before it returns, runs up your arm.  
Before long it feels like your entire body is on fire, every inch screaming for relief, to be pressed against the man by your side.  
You move, sit up, shift until you're straddling his hips, arms draped loosely over his shoulders. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling of him, the sensation akin to cool, calming balm on a burn. He looks at you, features open as he scans your face, watches you closely.  
“I’m not perfect, Zen.” Your voice is soft, weaker than usual.  
“You are.” There’s so much conviction in those two words, a fierceness in his eyes you’ve never seen before.  
You open your mouth to disagree but he’s already speaking.  
“To me, you’re perfect. Everything you feel you’re lacking, whatever it is,” he raises a hand, cups your face and you can’t help but lean into his touch, “I accept it. _I love you, MC._ All of you.”  
There it is again, the words rolling off his tongue so easily. You want to say them back so badly, to reverse positions, tell him how much you treasure him but you can’t, the fear in your chest silencing you each time you even think about it, it’s presence killing the words in your throat.  
“Zen?”  
“Hmm?”  
You inhale, the movement shaky as you take his hand, intertwine your fingers with his.  
“Just know… even if I can’t say it now, I feel the same way about you. _I feel it so much._ It’s new and scary and I can’t fight it even if I wanted to. I don’t want to. I just…” you stop, the tears shining in his eyes taking you by surprise. He blinks rapidly, adams apple bobbing as he traces the pads of his fingers over your waist.  
“I want you, Hyun. _I need you.”_  
He freezes, his body tense beneath you and for a second you’re confused, unsure of what his reaction means but then you see it.  
He forgets to blink, so caught up in the sound of his name, _his real name_ coming from your mouth as you bare the deepest part of you that the tear drops unnoticed, slides slowly down his face.  
You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable and it takes you by surprise, causes your vision to blur, throat burning at the realisation that he really, truly loves you.  
A single tear rolls down your cheek and he's moving, wiping it away instantly, erasing its presence.  
You laugh shakily, reach out before brushing your fingers over his face, repaying him in kind.  
"It's ok," you smile, eyes glistening, “We’re ok."  
“When did we get so soft-hearted?” he asks, voice gruff with emotion and you laugh again, feel his soft chuckle reverberate through your body as you lean forward, bury your face into the crook of his neck. 

You must’ve dozed off for a minute, open your eyes to find your face still pressed against him. He’s tracing patterns across your back through the thick material of the robe and you moan softly at the sensation, reluctantly sit up.  
“How many times did you fall asleep today, hmm?” he asks, a small smile on his lips.  
“Kiss me.” The words come out in a murmur, voice still husky from sleep and you notice his eyes widen a fraction, his fingers across your back stilling.  
His gaze flutters down to your mouth and he leans down slowly, presses his lips against yours gently before sitting back.  
You hold back a frustrated sigh.  
"Again?" You notice his lips twitch before he leans back down, kisses you longer than before. Your shoulders relax as you press your palms against his chest, eagerness showing in the way you kiss him back.  
He separates from you and you clutch at his shirt, prevent him from moving away.  
_"Harder,"_ your voice is tinged with longing and before you can think he's grasping at your sides, his lips hot as they part yours and you open yourself up to him, let his tongue press against yours.

His touch is different from before, the urgency from the both of you amplified tenfold. You fumble at the buttons of his shirt at the same time he pulls at the robe, almost rips it from your shoulders in his haste. He breaks the kiss, doesn’t give you time to react as he latches onto your neck and you gasp, involuntarily clench your thighs around him. His breath hitches at the friction, teeth accidentally nipping at your skin and you moan, the sound forming into a whimper as he moves lower, traces your collarbone with the tip of his tongue.  
You’ve finished with the buttons of his shirt, trail your fingers down his chest and he squirms, the muscles of his abdomen clenching and unclenching at your touch. You reach his belt, feel him stop, his body immobile beneath you. It isn’t until your hand brushes against the tent in his jeans that he responds, his hips moving up into your touch. You slide the belt off, unzip him before palming the growing bulge and he groans, the sound long and drawn out, his hips bucking against your hand.  
It isn’t until you slip a hand into his boxers and wrap your fingers around him that he cries out, your name the first thing he says as his head falls back against the headboard.  
His eyes are half lidded, lips parted as he gasps for air, watches as you work him with your hand, hips rolling against his thigh.  
He’s hot and heavy in your hand, the confines of his jeans making it hard for you as he bucks up, almost knocks you off as he moans, bites his lip to stop the string of words spilling out.  
You can’t take it anymore, release him before rising on your knees and completely shedding the robe. He senses what you want, lifts his hips off the mattress to pull of his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion.  
You run your hands slowly up his thighs and his legs twitch in anticipation, mouth open as he watches you straddle him. You bite your lip, guide his member before sinking down onto him, every inch causing him to hiss, hands fisted into the sheets as he holds himself back, lets you take the lead.  
It isn’t until you feel the familiar stretch of him that you stop, gasp sharply before rolling your hips experimentally. Your eyes flutter open just in time to see him grasp your midriff, his lips on yours and your mouth falls open, mind spinning from the feeling of him all over you.  
He swallows every sound you make, commits every curve and dip of your body to memory, a sudden flood of possessiveness overtaking him at the fact that only he can make you feel this way, every noise you make just for him. 

You break the kiss, eyes glazed with desire as you find your rhythm, palms pressed against his thighs to steady yourself. Every moment brings you closer to the edge and you lean back, rake your nails against him and he chokes on a gasp, wraps an arm around your back to guide you, the added pressure causing his length to brush against the spot that leaves you seeing stars.  
You’re so close, your laboured breathing mixing with his open-mouthed pants, the heat in the room contributing to the sweat beading on his brow as he clenches his jaw, thrusts up into you.  
“Hyun…” your hips stutter, legs almost buckling under your impending orgasm and he holds you up, runs a hand down your chest, between your breasts, his mouth following close behind, down until his fingers brush against your abdomen and you realise his intention just as he speaks those three little words right over where your heart lies, presses his fingers against your core and you come undone, head falling onto his shoulder just as he thrusts up one, twice before reaching his own peak.  
“Me too,” you whisper against his shoulder, “so much.”  
You don’t remember much after that. There are tears that don’t belong to you against your bare skin, showering with Zen, more fluffy robes, food, falling asleep against his chest. But more than that, you can never forget how peaceful you felt as he held you against him, the words he mumbled in his sleep involving you and those three little words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will focus on Saeran and all the things MC missed bc she was too preoccupied with Zen


	26. Realisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes confrontation, hurt and realisation between the Choi brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'm so sorry this story hasn't been updated in forever, I've only just finished with classes and assignments and exams and I'm so tired. I have a few weeks before my last clinical placement of the year starts so I'm going to take advantage of it and update this story as much as possible. Again, I'm so sorry. I would never abandon this story!

“How long?” Seven’s voice breaks the relative quiet of the kitchen. Saeran looks up from the counter, arms folded in front of him providing his head support.   
“How long what?”  
“Have you liked her. MC.”  
He almost chokes, breath hitching in surprise at Seven’s words. He’s staring Saeran down, glasses glinting as he stands before his brother, arms crossed firmly across his chest.   
He manages to compose himself, pushes away from the counter before setting his jaw.  
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”  
“I’m serious, Saeran. How long?”  
He chooses to ignore him, stands up before making his way out of the room. Seven is faster, his frame already between his brother and the way out.  
“Move,” Saeran almost growls, hands clenched into fists.   
“Was it since she started coming over? Is that it?”  
“I said, _move.”_  
“Or when you found out about her and Zen?”  
A flash of red, hot anger passes through him and his fingers twitch, dig deeper into his palms. “Shut up, Saeyoung.”  
The drop in his tone causes Seven to falter before he collects himself, swallows harshly before continuing.  
“Or was it before all that? Did you realise after you ruined her life, led her to that apartment, practically forced her-“  
“Shut the fuck up!" his voice rips through the room, the harshness of his words causing Seven to blink in surprise.   
Saeran’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, the look in his eyes similar to how he’d glared at his brother during those early days when his hatred had been so palpable, not so easily contained.

“She’s not coming back, Saeran. Her month is up.”

He seems to deflate, that one sentence having more of an impact on him than anything else Seven had previously said. The flame in his eyes dies down and his shoulders drop.  
 _She’s not coming back._

“She’s with Zen. Let her be happy. Let her have that at least.”  
Saeran chuckles softly, the corners of his mouth rising in a failed attempt at a smile before his muscles give up and his face drops. He moves slowly, brushes past his brother, mutters quietly under his breath as he does so.  
“Who says she can’t have that with me?”   
His words hover in the air long after he’s gone, leave Saeyoung’s sharp intake of breath lodged in his throat as his eyes widen in shock. 

He always knew, no matter how hard he tried to push the thought away, bury it deep down, it always came back.   
The fact that Saeran was falling for MC.   
He could already see how it would never work out, how many relationships would be ruined if anything were to happen. How it could affect the entire structure of the RFA.


	27. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes Saeran remembering things he would rather forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the one before it have been purposefully short in order to try and portray Saeran's short, sharp outburst and the aftermath.  
> Also this chapter goes a little into how Saeran actually felt/what he did after finding out about MC x Zen

He wants to be angry, to direct every negative emotion he feels towards Saeyoung but it’s half-hearted, the brief moment of rage already dissipating only to be replaced by a sense of loss, almost as if something he held dear was suddenly and forcefully taken from him.  
He lays face down on his bed, tries to ignore the wave of memories assaulting his senses but it’s futile and he lets them come, eyes scrunched tightly and fingers clutched almost painfully at his pillow. 

He remembers the day he'd logged into the messenger only to find a picture of you in the actors’ bed. He remembers driving his fist into something, the pain and Saeyoung's panicked shouts barely surpassing the ache in his chest.  
He remembers the trip to the emergency room, glass carefully being picked out of his hand, how it didn't feel anywhere near as calming as the day you'd sat cross legged on his bed and treated him.  
He remembers wishing you were in his bed instead as he lay awake that night, the dull throbbing in his bandaged hand matching the beating of his heart.  
He remembers wondering if his heart was in his hand instead of his chest or whether it was with you.  
Whether he even had one to begin with. 

He remembers the party, walking out of the kitchen only to step into the scene of that man kissing you, your hand pressed against his chest and he'd staggered back, the ice cream in his stomach churning so much it had left him gasping for breath, his throat and eyes burning with suppressed emotion.  
He remembers that emotion spilling out along with the ice cream and the tears as he rested his head against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat that night.

_“She’s not coming back, Saeran. Her month is up.”_

He had a month with you and wasted it. He wonders why you'd ever come back. Why you would waste your time in a windowless bunker with two socially isolated freaks when you could be doing anything else. You could be with the actor, the two of you could be together. You could be happy.  
He wants you to be happy more than anything, but a selfish part of him wants you to be happy with him.

He continues to lay there, his mind flicking through memory after memory until he’s lulled into a restless sleep by his favourite one, a compilation of all the smiles you’ve ever directed at him and all the touches of your skin against his and for a moment he lets it trick him, lets the imagined thought of you beside him draw the smallest of smiles on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sharp eyed amongst you may have noticed extra added tags.... maybe a change in the content rating?


	28. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes a little something for all you MC x Saeran shippers out there

The sound of his mobile ringing rouses him and he groans, fumbles beside his pillow before accepting the call, places the phone to his ear.  
“Saeran?”  
He bolts upright, the sound of your voice effectively cutting through the haze of sleep and he realises it’s the first time someone has ever called him. The first time and it had to be you.  
“MC?” he asks, voice slurred and he hears you shift, a quick flurry of movement before you speak.  
“Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?” the worry in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and he feels warm from the inside out, warmer than he’s felt in a while.  
“No, I- it’s ok. I’m fine.”  
“That’s good,” you sigh, “I’m glad.”  
A moment of silence on your end and he chews on his bottom lip, unsure of whether he should speak or not, what he should say. His thoughts are cut off quickly however as you breathe into the receiver and he shudders, a tingling sensation running down his spine at how close you sound, how he can almost imagine how warm your words would feel spoken directly into his ear.  
“Can you come outside?” he frowns, unsure of your words but you continue, voice almost hushed.  
“Come. I’ll be waiting.” And with those words you’re gone, leave him sitting there for a minute before he moves, throws the covers off himself and makes his way out of the room. 

Saeyoung is sitting on the sofa in the living area, his face illuminated by the bright light of his phone. He looks up at Saeran before standing, throws something at his brother and Saeran’s arm shoots out, connects with the material of a denim jacket. He looks up from it back to Saeyoung, finds him still standing there, an unspoken demand hanging in the air from the way his face is set and Saeran narrows his gaze, squares off with him until his brother gives in, shoulders dropping before he speaks.  
“Go.”  
He turns towards the door without a word, shrugs the jacket on before opening it and almost gasps as he realises just how late it is.  
It’s well past midnight and the neighbourhood is bathed in moonlight, the navy blue of the sky scattered with a sprinkling of stars.  
Your car is parked at the end of the pavement, pointed directly towards the break in the clouds and there you are, legs swinging as you sit on the hood, the moonlight a perfect spotlight on your figure. You turn, notice him and the smile that breaks across your face, eyes half-moon crescents and lips pulled up in that signature way of yours is almost enough to stop him in his tracks. _Almost._  
He continues forward, heartbeat audible in his ears and hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans until he reaches you.  
“You came,” you breathe, the sound carried by the breeze until it reaches him and he nods, a small, easy smile gracing his lips.  
“Here,” you shift, tap the empty space beside you and he swallows harshly before gingerly sitting on the edge.  
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you ask and for a second he doesn’t understand, looks towards you for confirmation, finds you gazing up at the sky.  
“Yeah,” he says softly, eyes still fixed on you, “it is.”  
You smile again, this time more with your eyes than anything else and he shuffles back, sits more comfortably. 

He sits there with you for a while until that feeling comes back, the one that makes him wonder why you choose to be around him, how you can be so open and trusting and before he knows it the words are out of his mouth, so harsh and hostile he wouldn’t be surprised if you left.  
_“Why_ are you here?”  
“Can’t I drop by and see a friend?” you answer without hesitation and he blinks, mouth open but unable to speak.  
_A friend. You consider him a friend._  
_After everything he’s done to you._  
_After how much he’s hurt you._  
_A friend._  
He thinks about leaving, about walking back into the house and breaking something, hurting himself to show you just how unstable he is, how he _can’t_ be your friend, he can’t even be around you because sooner or later he’ll ending up hurting you again and if that happens, if it happens you’ll change, you’ll change and he would never be able to live with himself.  
But at the same time a small part of him, the small part that whispers _‘what ifs’_ and _‘maybes’_ into his ear late at night wonders what it means to be a friend, what it would take to be your friend. If somehow, somewhere in the future he could be your friend, he thinks it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

“There’s an RFA meeting tomorrow,” you inform him, turn slightly to face him and he nods in understanding.  
“Are you going to come?”  
“I don’t… I don’t know.”  
“You should. We might be holding another party.”  
“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles, looks down at his hands and you smile, move closer until you’re shoulder to shoulder.  
“I’ll be there.” He notices a hint of playfulness in your voice and looks over, finds you grinning and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He notices how your eyes widen a fraction at the sound, realises how you’ve never heard it and before he can think too much into it you’re laughing, the sound as dazzling as the moonlight bathing the both of you in its glow. You rest your forearms on his shoulder, place your head against them as your frame shakes from uncontrollable laughter and his heart swells at the sight, lips stretched into the widest smile he has.  
You finally calm down enough to raise your head, face inches away from his as you simply look at him, chest rising and falling as you regain your breath.  
“You should smile more,” you murmur, breathe fanning across his face and his eyelids flutter at the sensation, at how close you are.  
“I should?”  
“Mmm,” you smile, remove your arms from his shoulder before replacing them with your head and he sucks in a sharp intake of breath, unable to believe the fact that you’re leaning on his shoulder on the hood of your car under the moon and a blanket of stars.  
“It suits you.” 

He stays like that with you a while longer, drapes his jacket over your shoulders when you shiver, smiles as you point out the different stars for him, tell him their names.  
All too soon it’s time for you to leave and you remove your head from his shoulder, pass him back his jacket before the both of you slide off the hood and you slide into your car. You remind him about the meeting again, flash him another smile before driving off and he stands there, watches until your headlights disappear around the corner.  
He makes his way back into the house, slips his shoes off before collapsing fully clothed into bed, the jacket which now smells faintly of you on the pillow beside him.


End file.
